


i am falling, with no one to catch me

by Anonymous



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Reconciliation, finally the author wrote a chaptered fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: title is from 'i am hated for loving' by morrissey
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29
Collections: Anonymous





	1. 1

Set 1988.

  
*

Morrissey glanced up as he heard a sharp rap on the door.

It was late afternoon, the sun already sinking behind the horizon, the day chilly and harsh. He made his way through the quiet house, glancing through the small side window. The sight made his heart stop for a moment, his heart rate spike. On autopilot he opened the door, blinking to make sure he wasn’t daydreaming.

Johnny was stood on the doorstep, a duffle bag on his shoulder.

His expression was uncertain, hesitant.

The first thing Morrissey noticed was that his hair was short, shorter than the last time he had laid eyes on him.

Which, if his memory served him correctly, was over seven months ago...

They looked at each other for a long moment in silence, a bird chirping somewhere in the distance.

“Hi, Moz.” Johnny finally spoke, voice low and gravelly from smoking.

Morrissey reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, completely thrown off. Wordlessly he stepped aside, gesturing vaguely.

Johnny slowly walked inside, pausing in the porch to kick off his boots.

“Nice place, this.” he said lightly.

“Thank you.” Morrissey managed.

He shut the door and locked it, suddenly aware of what he looked like in his old, thick jumper and glasses, his hair messy.

“I.. ah… hope you don’t mind me turnin’ up.” Johnny shifted awkwardly for a second, putting his bag down. “I was gonna phone but…”

He trailed off, never completing his excuse.

“I thought you were on tour with the _new_ _band_.” Morrissey said quietly.

Her ran his eyes over Johnny’s leather jacket and skinny jeans.

“Yeah, I… bailed on them?” Johnny forced out a laugh.

He exhaled, shoulders slumping. “Can we have a cuppa tea, I’ll tell you all my failings?”

Morrissey nodded, gesturing again for Johnny to follow him and they made their way through the large house.

“Sit down.” Morrissey said, pointing vaguely to the large sofa he had at one end of the kitchen.

Johnny threw himself on it with a sigh of relief, looking around with interest.

Still getting over his initial shock, Morrissey made the tea on autopilot, scooping two sugars in Johnny’s mug without even thinking about it.

“Thanks, Moz.” Johnny took the tea from him and Morrissey sat down the other end of the sofa, trying to keep an acceptable distance.

“Sorry, first of all.” Johnny said immediately, staring into his drink. “For turning up. Not very… good I know, I didn’t plan it. I just sort of packed a bag and followed my feet.”

Morrissey nodded slowly.

No matter the distance between them, something always seemed to keep them entwined, an invisible thread. That never seemed to break.

“Nothing has been going the way it’s supposed to.” Johnny admitted.

He sipped his tea before putting it down on the side and turning sideways. “Are you… d’ya have plans, shows, anything going on?”

Morrissey shook his head. “No, no. I’m done for a month or so, just some studio time but I cant bear it at the moment so I have been encamped here by myself. Writing, reading, the usual.”

Johnny nodded and smiled faintly.   
  
“Knew you’d be a star after… the band.” he said simply. “They’re ravin’ about you.”

“Are they?” Morrissey ran a hand through his quiff to try and tame it. “I tend to avoid reading any of it.”

“Well, it’s all good.” Johnny said.

He shifted and leant back against the sofa, looking at the singer for a long moment.

“You cut your hair even shorter.” Morrissey spoke before the guitarist could, voice soft.

Johnny nodded slowly “Bit of an impulsive decision. Stupid idea.”

He reached up, running a hand through his dark locks. “Your quiff is reaching epic proportions though.”

Morrissey smiled then. “Yes. Well, you know me.”

He self consciously picked up his tea and took a gulp.

“Hope you don’t mind, you wrote your address on one of your letters so…” Johnny glanced around the kitchen again. “S’nice. Reminds me a bit of your old flat really, just bigger.”

Morrissey nodded.

His old flat. It had been hard to let go of the place, it held so many memories.

Some good, some bad, some downright ugly.

Nearly all of them involved Johnny.

“Yes. I rather liked that place, too.” he managed quietly.

He looked back up, blue eyes meeting brown.

“Tell me what has been going on then? When I saw you in LA you were… embarking on a new sound, a new _genre_.” Morrissey chose his words carefully, trying not to sound bitter or sarcastic.

Johnny nodded, various emotions on his face.

“I fucked up.” he said. “Thats what happened. Couldn’t do it anymore, it got too hard. The music stopped… flowing, I was trapped. Didn’t feel right.”

He sighed then, glancing around the room to avoid eye contact.

Morrissey frowned lightly, his mind automatically flickering back to The Smiths days.

Johnny was always exuberant, full of life and ideas and songs. The amount of times he had woken Morrissey up, guitar in hand. _Come on love, need you to sing for me, yeah? Got this sound in my head!_ he would say.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Johnny.” he finally spoke. “At all.”

“I don’t feel like me.” Johnny muttered.

He stood up then suddenly and wandered across the kitchen, looking at some framed photos hanging on the walls.

“I remember this.” he said then, tilting his head. “I… god, I remember that exact moment.”

The photo was of Johnny, Morrissey and Andy in Texas on The Smiths 1985 tour.

The three were posing stupidly on the empty stage, Andy with his bass guitar aloft. Johnny was forefront in the photo, his beloved Rickenbacker in hand, sticking his tongue out.

And Morrissey was next to him, hand on his hip, posing flamboyantly in a James Dean t-shirt.

“Rather a long time ago now.” Morrissey said quietly.

Johnny nodded, finally glancing back at the singer.

“I fucked up.” he said quietly. “S’like a mental block, cant seem to play or write music at the moment, everything is a task.”

Morrissey paused before standing up and walking over to the guitarist.

“Its so opposite to how it was with us, how I was always full of ideas and creativity.” Johnny forced out a bitter laugh. “Now I’m a fucking mess who cant even put a tune together.”

“Johnny.” Morrissey frowned. “Don’t say that-“

“It’s true! I’ve let so many people down.” Johnny swallowed. His face was wrought with emotion suddenly, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

Morrissey reached out slowly and laid his hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

“You haven’t let anyone down.”

“Moz, I have. I really fucking have.”

“Well you can put it right, things can always be put right.”

“Can they?” Johnny said quietly.

He turned to the singer then. “I couldn’t put us right, could I? The Smiths or you and I.”

Morrissey held his gaze then. “Is that why you’re here?”

“I… don’t know, suppose I’m just running to you for comfort like old times.” Johnny said quietly. “Bit too dependent on you then and still am now. I’m sorry for turning up like this.”

“Stop apologising.” Morrissey whispered.

He gently ran his hand up and down Johnny’s arm.

Johnny reached up and caught his hand, twining their fingers.

“Thanks, Moz.” he murmured. “You sure I’m not… messing up your plans?”

“I have no plans.” Morrissey assured him. “I told you, reading, writing, talking to the cat.”

Johnny laughed softly.

“Ok. Nice one.”

“Go and put your bag in the spare room.” Morrissey said. “I’ll make us dinner, if you would like?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded, sighing. Some tension seemed to leave his body. “Thanks.”

“Up the stairs, first door on the left, the bed is already made up.” Morrissey continued.

His eyes flickered down down at their joined hands.

Johnny squeezed tightly before letting go and disappearing.

Morrissey heard him go up the stairs one by one, the sound alien after being alone in the house for so long.

He let out a long breath, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter for a moment.

His mind held so many conflicting emotions he wasn’t sure what to feel or think first.

Instead he turned and pulled a bottle of wine from his stash and began to boil water and cut vegetables.

Fifteen minutes later, Johnny re-appeared, his hair damp.

He had changed into some comfier looking clothes, the t-shirt hanging off his slim frame.

“Hope you don’t mind I just dived in the guest room shower. I feel a hundred times more alive now.” he smiled.

“Of course not.” Morrissey said. He picked up the bottle of wine and glanced at the guitarist. “Are you… you’re not abstaining from drinking or anything?”

“Christ, no.” Johnny said. “I have cut down… and the drugs. It messes with my head. But a glass of wine isn’t exactly wild, Moz, pour away.”

Morrissey smiled and did so, pouring them both a glass before moving back to throw some pasta onto boil.

“Smells bloody good.” Johnny sighed. “D’ya mind if I…?” he gestured to the doorway to the living room.

“No, no, feel free. Don’t be alarmed if you find a cat or two.” Morrissey said.

Johnny laughed and wandered through to the large, airy living room.

The walls held more photos and framed records, relics from The Smiths.

Platinum and gold discs, reminders of their dizzying success.

Johnny wandered around, taking in the sights and familiar eccentricities of Morrissey’s home for a few minutes before going back to the kitchen.

The singer was sitting on the kitchen worktop now, a thoughtful look on his face.

Johnny paused, taking in the sight of him. In a previous life he would’ve simply walked up and wriggled between his legs, kissed the other man…

“Don’t think too much, it’s not good for ya.” he quipped.

Morrissey blinked and smiled. “In that case I am too far gone for help.”

He picked up his wine and sipped it slowly.

“How’s tour life for you then?” Johnny asked carefully, walking over and leaning against the counter next to the singer.

“Oh, you know. Long drives, plane rides, hotel rooms.”

“No wild partying?”

Morrissey huffed out a laugh. “We both know that is not really my scene.”

Johnny nodded slowly.

“You find it lonely?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Morrissey nodded this time. “Sometimes. I’ve learned to suffer with it. I do not expect to feel different. I’m pretty used to my own company anyway.”

“Thats why I was worried, turning up here.” Johnny frowned, running a hand through his short hair.

Morrissey glanced down, twisting a bracelet on his wrist. “I wasn’t referring to you, John.”

“Still, you need your own space, I know that. You’ll have to tell me if I get too much.” Johnny said.

He reached over and picked up his wine, gulping it.

Morrissey smiled softly and slid off the counter then.

He went back to cooking, focusing his mind on the simple task instead of the inevitable conversation he knew they were going to have at some point.

Johnny sat down on one of the breakfast bar stools, keeping up idle chatter as Morrissey served them up dinner.

“Thanks, Mozza.” he smiled. “Looks beaut, love.”

“Bon appétit.” Morrissey said, picking up his glass.

Johnny clinked his own and they relaxed further as they ate, the conversation turning to old Smiths memories and funny tour moments, both of them avoiding any difficult or contentious topics.

They cleared up companionably after eating before re-filling their wine and going back to the living room. Morrissey pulled down the blinds, switching on a couple of lamps and Johnny sighed, sinking onto his sofa.

“You always have the comfiest furniture.” he commented. “Let me guess, this is some foreign hand made shit that cost a few grand?”

Morrissey raised an eyebrow. “I’m struggling to fathom if thats a compliment or insult that I spent a lot of money on my decor?”

“I was right.” Johnny grinned. “Some Italian brand then.”

He reached out and poked the singer in the ribs then.

“So you turn up at my house, I make you dinner, put you up _indefinitely_ and this is the thanks?” Morrissey said, unable to keep a smile off his face.

He pushed Johnny’s hand away then and the guitarist laughed, pushing back.

Their small fight was over in moments and Johnny patted his lap.

“Come on, it’s the least I can do, accommodate your lanky frame.”

Morrissey rolled his eyes but stretched out his legs across the guitarist like old times.

“I am still not used to your hair.” he admitted a moment later.

Johnny nodded, the smile slowly disappearing from his face.

“Was a stupid decision in a moment of self hatred I suppose.” he said, resting his head back against the sofa and shutting his eyes.

“Why?” Morrissey murmured.

“Didn’t wanna be _old_ me. Wanted to be someone new, someone cooler with a new sound. As you can see, that fucking failed.”

“You haven’t failed.”

“Moz, I bunked off the tour and turned up here without telling anyone.”

“Your musical frustrations right now have no bearing on your talents, Johnny.” Morrissey said quietly. “You are the best guitarist I have ever heard.”

Johnny opened his eyes then. “You don’t have to say that-“

“It’s true.” Morrissey cut in. “I spent five years next to you in the studio, on stage. I know your abilities very well. Any… _rut_ you are in now is just temporary.”

Johnny met his eyes then and sighed.

“Thanks, love.” he said quietly. “I needed that.”

He reached out his hand then and gently laid it on the singers chest, brushing his thumb back and forth against his well worn jumper.

They looked at each other for a long moment, the room quiet.

“What are you thinking?” Morrissey finally spoke softly.

“That I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Johnny.”

“You know what I mean. Too attached to you I guess.” Johnny muttered.

He slowly slid his hand up, brushing Morrissey’s jawline, his stubbled skin.

Morrissey swallowed. “John.”

“M’sorry. I’m overstepping.” Johnny frowned. He slid a hand through the other mans quiff before withdrawing his hand.

“I still feel like you are not telling me the whole truth of the issue.” Morrissey said quietly.

He reached back out and took Johnny’s hand, clutching it.

“What about?”

“This… _fleeing the tour_. Everything you have said sounds so unlike you, what else aren’t you telling me?”

Johnny shifted then, varying emotions on his face. He frowned.

“Just got a lot of regrets in this past year.” he finally said. “About you, us, the band. How it ended. I was a total wanker.”

“You have already apologised for this.” Morrissey said.

He studied Johnny’s profile, the face he knew so well.

He could see the other man was burdened with emotion, worn down.

“Its not enough though is it? I fucked us up. Thought I was some big rock star. I’m just a joke, hanging around with people who just wanna get off their heads.”

“You aren’t a joke.” Morrissey said quietly.

“I am.” Johnny laughed but it was bitter and hard. “I’m a shit husband, I cant even stand to be with my own wife anymore. I messed up _us_ , the most important thing to me. I fucked up The Smiths by being a selfish bastard who thought he was bigger than the band.”

He went to move then and Morrissey shifted onto his knees. “Wait, Johnny, you need to rationalise some of this.”

He crawled along the sofa until he was next to the guitarist.

“I made many mistakes with The Smiths also. I withdrew from you when you tried to talk to me.”

“I don’t blame you for that Moz, I was being a wanker to you.”

“The Smiths breaking up is not all on you. It was circumstance and time and… maybe we just had our run?” Morrissey said softly, sadly.

“Well I didn’t help, did I? Making music with other producers.” Johnny cringed. “I don’t like who I am right now, who I’ve become. This whole cutting off my hair to become a different person.”

He exhaled deeply, suddenly looking overwrought and exhausted again.

Morrissey studied him in the soft light of the room.

“Why don’t you go to bed, get some rest?” he said softly. “Tomorrow we can start afresh, ok?”

Johnny nodded.

“How are you still so nice to me?” he muttered. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I’m afraid I am rather attached to you, too.” Morrissey said. “And that will not diminish. We have shared too much, albeit good and bad.”

“It was more good than bad, wasn’t it?” Johnny said, tilting his head to meet the singers eyes. “Tell me that?”

“Yes. It was nearly all good.” Morrissey affirmed.

He rubbed the sleeve off his jumper across his face, exhaling.

“Sorry, love.” Johnny looked guilty. “All I’ve done is unload all my issues onto you now.”

He opened his arms then and Morrissey crawled into them before he could engage the rational side of his brain and stop himself.

Johnny pulled him in tightly like old times and Morrissey melted into the embrace.

He butted his head lightly against Johnny’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent of aftershave and cigarettes.

Despite everything, it calmed him.

“Still a cuddler.” Johnny muttered, one hand cradling the back of the singers skull tenderly.

Morrissey smiled but didn’t speak.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed this.” Johnny said after a long minute of silence, voice low.

“Me too.” Morrissey whispered.

After being alone on tour for many months and then mostly alone in his house it felt strange but comforting to have such familiar arms round him again.

Johnny sighed and turned, pressing his lips to the singers temple and resting them there.

“I… saw one of your gigs.” he said then, voice so soft Morrissey barely heard him.

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Brixton. About three months ago?” Johnny said. He gently pulled back so their eyes met and he studied Morrissey intensely. “I hope you wont be mad. I… was there, hiding out at the back. I saw the whole show.”

Morrissey swallowed, stunned.

Memories of his Brixton show came flooding back.

He had to admit, it was a good one.

The crowd were unbelievably loud and receptive, making grabs for him throughout, trying to throw themselves up onto the stage.

It went down a storm.

“ _Oh_.” he said quietly.

“I wasn’t ever gonna tell you.” Johnny said, looking unsure.

He cupped the other mans chin, stroking his cheek. “I went on a whim, felt like I had to see you without seeing you, if that makes any sense. You were unreal, Moz. Unreal.”

“Thank you.” Morrissey said thickly.

“You looked so bloody good, you still do. The crowd were in love with you.” Johnny continued quietly. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind? You should have come to the backstage, told my security and we… could’ve spoken, perhaps had a drink?” Morrissey said quietly.

His mind was whirring with the idea Johnny had seen him without his knowledge.

“I bottled it, of course.” Johnny exhaled, shaking his head. “Just fucked off to my hotel and spent the whole night alone thinking of you.”

Morrissey bit his lip then, furrowing his brows.

“You don’t believe me?” Johnny murmured.

“I don’t know.” Morrissey said honestly. “I am finding this a little hard to process.”

“I wasn’t gonna tell you.” Johnny sighed. “But fuck it, I have now.”

He carded his hand back through the singers messy, soft hair.

“Thank you.” Morrissey whispered.

He leant back in and they embraced tightly.

Johnny moved his hand tentatively, sliding it underneath the singers jumper and beginning to stroke his warm skin.

“That feels nice.” Morrissey murmured.

“Yeah?”

“Haven’t had much human contact, truth me told. Other than the fans fighting to embrace me.”

“Seriously?” Johnny said, voice low.

Morrissey nodded silently.

“You cant tell me that you haven’t got a queue of people trying to bed you.” Johnny forced out a laugh, swallowing down the flaring of jealousy.

“I certainly do not have a queue.” Morrissey huffed out a laugh. “Goodness, no.”

“You’re kidding? They’re all in love with you, it was nuts.” Johnny said.

“Well I have had no offers, so the idea must not be that widely agreed upon.”

“Thats fucking crazy.” Johnny shook his head, shifting the singers weight and holding him tighter.

“Its simply a lack of appeal, I think.” Morrissey muttered.

“Stop. I cant start talking about how desirable you are, it’s inappropriate.” Johnny said wryly.

He squeezed the singer once more and Morrissey pulled back.

“I am glad you are here.” he said honestly.

“Me too, love. Feel better already.” Johnny murmured. He stifled a yawn then. “Sorry.”

“You should rest soon.” Morrissey said quietly. “We can talk tomorrow, if you like.”

“Course I’d like.” Johnny smiled. He reached up again and gently slid a hand through the singers hair. “I missed this quiff, Mozza.”

“I thought you said it was outdated?”

“I said it was reaching epic proportions.” Johnny laughed. “You’re never outdated. You look better with age.”

“Oh stop that.” Morrissey laughed, twisting away in shyness. “You are rambling nonsense now. I am dressed in the most unflattering jumper known to mankind.”

“You look good in anything,” Johnny said honestly.

Their eyes met then for a long moment, both studying each other in the dimming light.

“Why did you come here, Johnny? Why didn’t you go home to… Angie?” Morrissey asked then, before he could filter the question out to something gentler, something less direct.

Johnny swallowed, holding his gaze.

Varying emotions crossed his face for a long moment.

“You’re the only one who gets me.”

“She is your wife.”

“I know. But that doesn’t stop _this_.” Johnny exhaled. “You’re the only one who can calm all the madness is my head, Moz. You always have.”

Morrissey furrowed his brow, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands.

“We haven’t seen each other in seven months.”

“I know. But it doesn’t change, does it?” Johnny swallowed. “It never ends. This, _us_.”

Morrissey felt a twist in his stomach then, his eyes stinging. “No.” he said thickly. “It doesn’t.”

He reached up, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes for a second, stemming the tears.

“Would it be better for you if I left and never came back?” Johnny asked then, voice low.

Morrissey pushed his hand through his hair, almost exasperated.

“Is that a serious question?”

“Would it?”

“Of course not. How on Earth would that help me?” Morrissey said helplessly.

He reached out for Johnny and the guitarist reciprocated, taking Morrissey’s hand delicately and bringing it up to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

“Then you wouldn’t have to deal with my shit? With me coming and going?” Johnny shrugged.

“I am well used to dealing with your issues, as you are with mine.”

“I’m trying to make it easier for you.”

“By leaving me alone?”

“I don’t want to, love.” Johnny said exasperatedly. “I just want you to tell me what you want.”

Morrissey huffed out a laugh then.

“That is a long distant question with an impossible answer.”

“I know it’s… wrong of me to say.” Johnny began to trace a pattern on the back of Morrissey’s hand, touch gentle. “But you’re the only one I wanted to see after all this. I couldn’t bear to face another human being in the entire fucking universe except you.”

Morrissey nodded, tilting his head slightly.

“What?” Johnny asked quietly.

“I suffer the same way, sometimes.” Morrissey admitted. “In… Dublin, on the tour. I had a horrific few days, the usual despairing angst and self deprecation. One of the band came to check on me, knocked on the door and…” he trailed off for a moment.

Johnny didn’t speak, watching him intently.

Morrissey clenched his jaw. “I wanted one person behind the door. I knew it wasn’t going to be the person I wanted. But _all_ I wanted, Johnny, was to open that hotel room door and see you. In that moment, only you could’ve soothed me.”

Johnny let out a breath. “Christ. We’re both fucking disasters.”

Morrissey nodded slowly.

“Why didn’t you phone me?” Johnny said softly. “I would’ve talked you through it, love. I have before. Or at least stayed on the phone with you til you fell asleep?”

Morrissey half shrugged.

“I was trying to cut my terrible dependence on you.”

Johnny frowned. “Moz. You don’t need to suffer in moments like that. Look at me?”

Morrissey obeyed this, blue eyes meeting brown.

“Next time this happens and I’m not about, you ring me. Ok?” Johnny said firmly, eyes soft.

“Yes.” Morrissey said softly. “But in turn, you haven’t called me, Johnny. You have been in some terrible state, by the sounds of things.”

“Was just too big headed.” Johnny admitted. “Too pathetic. I took myself off to do these things so I should suffer the consequence is how I see it.”

He idly reached up, brushing his thumb along the singers jaw line for a moment.

“Indulging in self inflicted insanity will not teach you anything worthwhile.” Morrissey whispered.

“It taught me I’m a prat.” Johnny muttered.

A silence fell across the room and Morrissey rested his head against the back of the sofa.

“The years pass but seems like I still cant get on in the world without you.” Johnny said then, breaking the quiet.

“Johnny, one bad record isn’t the end.” Morrissey said. “You are being far too hard on yourself and your abilities. Your talent is never in question, you just need to find where it is you belong in the world.”

Johnny raised his eyes to the singers then. “You know where that is. Wherever you are.”

Morrissey sighed deeply, something overshadowing his expression. “And where I belong is wherever you are, also.”

Johnny swallowed thickly. “Fuck sake.” he whispered. “Come back here, please? For a second?”

Morrissey obeyed this without delay, crawling back into the other mans arms and sliding his arms up around his neck.

Their bodies moulded together without a moments hesitation, testament to their years of physical closeness.

“Sorry.” Johnny choked out, tears on his face now. He pressed his face into Morrissey’s shoulder for a second, rocking him gently back and forth.

“Don’t cry.” Morrissey breathed. “I am right here, John. I’m still here.”

“I know.” Johnny said shakily. “Fuck knows why.”

“You know why.”

“The feeling is reciprocated.” Johnny kissed the singer gently on the temple.

“I missed you.” Morrissey admitted quietly, his voice almost timid.

“Missed you too.” Johnny pressed his hand between the singers shoulder blades, feeling the familiar curve of his spine. “Just a mess, Moz, thats all I am. A big fuckin’ disaster.”

“Well, I am rather disastrous too, so we can suffer together.”

“Like old times?” Johnny laughed then, sniffling.

“Like old times.” Morrissey affirmed.

Johnny nodded and sighed.

“Please go and get some sleep, I can tell you are exhausted.” Morrissey murmured. “I’ll still be here tomorrow, this is my house remember?”

“I know. Just wanna hold onto this moment.” Johnny muttered. “S’been too long. Too many nights.”

He kissed the other man on his temple again before pulling back.

“Look... I have at least two guitars here.” Morrissey said. “Tomorrow we can talk and if that is a mess let’s just escape to the studio I have out the back and you can play, I can sing. If everything around us is crumbling, I know we always have that to tie us together.”

“Yeah. You’re right, as always.” Johnny nodded, his expression easing. “Thanks, darling.”

The two slowly disentangled and stood up, both stretching.

They wandered to the kitchen, Johnny smiling as two cats strolled up, miaowing.

“Oh hi, you Mozza’s mates?” he asked, leaning down to stroke them.

“Vera and Jimmy.”

“ _Seriously_?”

“Yes.” Morrissey said, filling up the cats bowls with fresh water. “What is funny about that?”

“Fucking weird names for cats.” Johnny grinned.

“You name your _guitars_ , that is strange. These two are sentient beings.”

“And you’re the strangest sentient being of us all.” Johnny stood up as the cats trotted off.

“What a delightful parting goodnight message.” Morrissey said wryly.

Johnny laughed and grabbed himself some water before following the singer upstairs.

“Seriously Johnny, get some rest.” Morrissey said, pausing on the landing. “You look exhausted, you cannot exist like this.”

“I am knackered.” Johnny nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks, love. Come and see me in the morning, yeah? Don’t let me sleep the day away.”

“Yes, I will.” Morrissey agreed.

The two met in a final embrace then, kissing each other on the cheek before separating.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

“Night, Mozza. And thanks, yeah?” Johnny whispered.

With that he turned and slipped into the guest room, shutting the door.

Morrissey let out a breath and automatically headed for his room.

His head was spinning and his mind would not stop the entire night.  
*


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to miss a WHOLE SECTION of this chapter so I've had to re-upload it haha oops.... what can I say, I blame 2020??????? (Happy New Year everyone xx)

*

When Morrissey awoke, something clouded his subconscious immediately.

He frowned, blinking in the dim morning light.

A rehearsal? A show?

Another wretched interview?

He pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking.

And then it hit him.

_Johnny._

The man he had spent the last six years thinking about was just a few feet away, in his spare room.

Rubbing his eyes, Morrissey settled back in bed.

The house was quiet and calm.

His thoughts drifted back to Johnny, his expression as he stood on the doorstep yesterday.

He had looked somewhat lost, forlorn.

The fact that he had, in his words, done a runner from his tour didn’t sit right with Morrissey.

They were so close that their emotions seemed to be intrinsically linked and he knew that Johnny was going through more than he even let on.

The fact he hadn’t even bothered to go home to Angie…

Morrissey shifted, drawing the blanket tighter around him.

The old, familiar feelings gripped him.

Guilt, fear, pain, jealousy.

He knew very well what he was getting into with Johnny in the beginning, but that didn’t stop the complications.

He’d pushed the other man over and over at various times across their relationship. Trying to see where his loyalties were.

But Johnny had always seemed to calm his fears, soothe him, placate him with gentle words and touches.

Before Johnny he’d had no meaningful connections in his life, no proper relationship.

He was simply existing, drifting along in a strange world.

Johnny turning up on his doorstep one sunny afternoon in 1982 had transformed his life in every which way.

The band, the singing, the tours, the money…

But in spite of all of that, Morrissey felt as though some higher being had given him Johnny.

Beautiful, kind, funny Johnny. So exuberant and silly, always laughing and full of hope.

He had bought Morrissey out of himself, put him on top of the world.

And Morrissey had fallen stupidly, dangerously in love with the guitarist.

The fact he had a girlfriend?

It seemed as though they could always separate that life quite easily back then…

Which didn’t make it right. It was so horribly wrong in one way but so perfect in another.

Morrissey exhaled then, staring at the ceiling blankly.

His further success after The Smiths had only served as a painful stab for Johnny, he knew that.

The guitarist was so desperate to make a name for himself, make music his own way.

However, he was clearly struggling in the aftermath.

Unsure of himself, his aesthetic.

His hair, Morrissey thought wryly.

A small flashback ran through his mind.

Him running his hands through Johnny’s hair as the other man leant over him in bed, grinning.

_“Shall I cut it Mozza?” he used to laugh, shaking his wild locks around. “Get rid, go for a short back an’ sides?”_

_“Oh Johnny, heavens no.” Morrissey would pout. “I shan’t kiss you ever again if you do.”_

_“Oh yeah?? You big liar.” Johnny would jump on him then. Pressing kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his forehead and his eyelids making Morrissey laugh and squirm with pretend outrage…_

Kicking the blankets away, Morrissey got out of bed immediately, blinking himself back into reality.

There was no point in doing this all over again, letting old memories overtake him.

He pulled on some shorts and a thick hooded top and paused outside the spare room but all was silent so he headed downstairs.

The cats came running immediately so he busied himself in feeding them, concentrating on tidying up whilst the radio played gently in the background to kill the silence.

An hour or so later, he heard footsteps and sounds from upstairs, the sound of running water.

Pouring a cup of tea and adding two sugars, Morrissey slowly walked upstairs.

He tapped on the spare room door, waiting.

“Come in Moz!” Johnny called.

He was sat on the bed, freshly showered in some jeans and a t-shirt, hair damp.

Morrissey set the tea down carefully on the bookcase. “How did you sleep?”

“Good yeah, sound.” Johnny stood up. “The comfy bed helped.”

He walked over and Morrissey smiled as they met in an embrace.

“Thanks for my tea.” Johnny murmured.

“I’m glad you slept.” Morrissey whispered, pressing his face into Johnny’s damp hair. “I was rather worried about you.”

“Sorry.” Johnny sighed. “I’m alright now I’m with you, yeah? Just… had a bad few weeks. Probably months to be honest.”

He pulled back and smiled. “Nice bed hair though, some things never change.”

Morrissey laughed. “You cannot insult me in my own home, what terrible etiquette.”

Johnny reached up, sliding his hand through the singers quiff as he’d done so many thousands of times before.

“You’re lovely as ever.” he said softly. “Come on, I’ll bring my tea down. You been awake long?”

He grabbed his mug of tea and Morrissey nodded as they wandered downstairs.

“An hour or two, I still wake early.” he said. “Regretfully. It’s rather annoying.”

Johnny followed him into the kitchen and sat back down on the sofa as he’d done the previous evening.

“So, any plans, Mozza?”

“Oh you know. Write, suffer over unfinished songs… contemplate my existence on this ghastly planet.” Morrissey said sardonically, opening the fridge and putting some oat milk away.

“No change there then.” Johnny grinned, sipping his tea.

He leant his head back and exhaled.

“Hope you… got over the shock of me turning up here.” he said a moment later.

Morrissey glanced over. “Just about.”

“I sort of… panicked? Left, packed my bag and only had one place in mind.” Johnny said apologetically.

“I was rather taken aback, I wont lie.” Morrissey said.

He walked over and sat down next to the guitarist, tucking his legs up.

“I know I cant hide here forever.” Johnny sighed. He ran his hand through his hair. “S’just… hope you’re okay with me for a few days?”

“Johnny. Is that even a question?”

“I don’t know. Things change.”

“Do they?”

“Some things. Not all of them.” Johnny murmured. He studied the singer in the golden glow of the morning light, his cheekbones sharp.

Morrissey paused for a moment.

“You should at least call your manager, he’ll be worried about you.”

“I will later.” Johnny muttered. “God I’m such a fucking… mess.” He sipped his tea again, looking dejected suddenly.

“You aren’t.” Morrissey said softly. “Stop this, Johnny. You are having a difficult time.”

“I’ve let people down.” Johnny said, leaning over to set his empty cup on the table. “Not that Ive been much help to anyone the last few months, cant see to get the creativity going. Too overshadowed by stress.”

Morrissey frowned, reaching out his hand to the guitarists and taking it.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing, Moz. This is helping, just… having space to breathe.” Johnny muttered. “No stress, no one demanding from me, no Angie in my ear.” he cringed a little at the last few words, glancing at the singer.

“Its only because they all care about you.” Morrissey reasoned, tracing the lines on Johnny’s palm gently.

“I know, and this sounds fucking awful but… I’ve stopped caring about making it now.” Johnny said quietly. “Everything that was so massively important to me whilst I was leaving The Smiths has sorta diminished. That desperation to be my own man, my own brand, it’s just gone.”

“You are your own person, your own man.” Morrissey frowned.

“I thought I was getting bigger than the band.” Johnny said honestly. “And I’m not. I never was, it was a team effort, we all needed each other. I needed you the most.”

He pulled on Morrissey’s hand then and the singer moved, lying his head on Johnny’s shoulder, a well worn sign of affection for them.

“I needed you the most.” Morrissey echoed the sentiment softly. “I’m afraid I still do.”

“I’m happy to tell you that any dependency you have on me is only amplified back at you, ten fold.” Johnny smiled wryly.

He lifted his arm round the singer, holding him close.

They lapsed into silence for a minute, the clock ticking on the wall.

Outside the sun was starting to filter through in the cold November day.

“What you thinking about, Moz?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing much.” Morrissey said honestly, voice soft. “Its just rather nice to sit with you after such a long period of time being alone.”

Johnny nodded in agreement.

“I’ve not been happy, being away playing shows.” he admitted quietly. “Sometimes I’ll be in a room or a club full of people and I’ll feel so fucking lonely.”

Morrissey blinked in surprise at the admission before nodding.

“I know the feeling rather well.”

“I feel like all these people surround you but… they don’t know you.” Johnny muttered. “They want something from you but it’s not genuine. I’ve felt is so much these last few months. I guess in The Smiths we were always together, so it was easier to be insular as a band. On your own, well…” he glanced at the singer. “You get it. You tour alone.”

_“One can be lonely in a crowd, too.” Morrissey quoted._

“Whats that from?”

“Greek philosophy.”

Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “Very true.”

After another long minute of silence, Morrissey lifted his head and stretched.

“Listen, help yourself to breakfast, I shan’t be long.” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Need to make myself look somewhat presentable now I have company.”

Johnny laughed. “Oh Mozza. You already look lovely.”

“Johnny, this is my freshly rolled out of bed look.”

“Like I haven’t seen it before.”

“Hmm. Fair point.” Morrissey mused. “I’ll show you the studio and you can hear my awful attempts at making music. If anyone is inept at the moment, it is me.”

“As if.” Johnny tutted. “And yeah, I wanna see where the magic all happens.”

Morrissey smiled and stood up.

“Oh and dont mind the cats, they may come and lie on you.” he added. “They’re rather needy.”  
  
“Used to needy Morrissey’s lounging all over me.” Johnny smirked. “So thats no bother.”  
  
“They live in my house but I am the one and only Morrissey.” the singer said in a mock serious tone.  
  
“And dont we all know it.”  
  
“Is that a bad thing?”  
  
“Never, darling. We only need one of you. You’re an original copy.” Johnny laughed.

No sooner had he spoke one of the cats appeared, jumping up onto the sofa and settling on Johnny’s knees.

“There we are, Vera approves.” Morrissey said.  
  
“Alright bugger off then, leave us to have a chat about you.” Johnny said, scratching the cat’s fur gently.

Morrissey laughed softly and did so, slipping out the kitchen and heading upstairs.

***  
  


“And ah, here is where… the magic happens.” Morrissey copied Johnny’s earlier words, unlocking the door to his studio.

They walked through and Johnny looked around, nodding. “S’nice in here Moz, bigger space than my old studio.”

He walked over to some framed discs on the wall, studying them. “This was always my favourite record we got, the platinum Queen Is Dead.”

He spotted two guitars that were stood near the back and walked over, picking one up.

“Was this one of my spares from our last tour?” he asked, strumming it thoughtfully.

“Yes. Somehow I ended up with it, although I’m not sure how. Same with the Fender.” Morrissey said. “They haven’t been used much, I’m afraid.”

Johnny nodded, picking out a few chords for a moment before lapsing into a familiar tune.

“Barbarism?” Morrissey smiled.

“Just miss your dancing.” Johnny laughed, moving and sitting the arm of the sofa that was pushed against the wall.

“We did used to go all out didn’t we?” Morrissey mused, watching Johnny play the chords with absolutely no effort or second thought. “Gave them quite a show.”

“Gave them a few shows.” Johnny nodded, shutting his eyes for a second.

He ended the tune and paused before beginning to play a new one, something unfamiliar.

Morrissey walked over and sat on the other end of the sofa, crossing his legs.

The tune was soft and slow, almost mournful and Morrissey swallowed.

He watched the guitarist intently.

Johnny’s expression was pinched as though he was feeling or re-living something.

He opened his eyes after a long minute and exhaled quietly.

The tune stayed gentle but desolate, Johnny’s hands moving through the chords effortlessly.

Eventually he trailed off and Johnny paused for a moment before glancing sideways.

“Oh… that was beautiful.” Morrissey said softly. “What’s it called?”

“Doesn’t have a name. Doesn’t even have proper lyrics yet.”

“Keep it. Even if you struggle, please keep it.”

“I’ll try.” Johnny nodded. “The rest are more upbeat, that one is a… one off. Wrote it after a fucking shit day.” He glanced at the singer again. “Was missing you.”

Morrissey blinked, meeting his eyes. “When was this?”

“Dunno, few months ago? About a week before… I came to your Brixton show.” Johnny cleared his throat, strumming the guitar idly. “Wasn’t the best time.”

“Why don’t you try slotting some lyrics in? It may help to bring forward a song title?” Morrissey said softly.

Johnny nodded slowly. “I’ve got my notebook with me, it’s full of lyrics but nothing seems to flow at the moment. I was so…” he frowned, as though hesitant to admit it. “So pissed off the other week I nearly smashed my bloody guitar, my Rickenbacker.”

“Oh Johnny.” Morrissey sighed.

Johnny set the guitar down on the stand and slid onto the sofa next to the singer.

“I didn’t, obviously. Just the frustration.”

“I understand.” Morrissey said.

Their eyes met then and neither spoke, just slowly taking in the other.

“What you thinking about?” Johnny asked after a long period of silence.

“You and I.”

“Good, bad, indifferent?”

“Oh, you know. We are all of those and so many more things.” Morrissey sighed.

He shifted then, feeling bold, lying down on the sofa and settling with his head in Johnny’s lap.

The guitarist smiled, setting aside the guitar and sliding his hand into Morrissey’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead.

“I missed this.” he said quietly. “Just having you here to talk to.”

“Me too.” Morrissey whispered.

Johnny rested his other hand on the singers chest, brushing his thumb back and forth.

“Tell me about your touring band.” he said. “Who’s your new guitarist that I’m gonna have to fight for your affections for?”

Morrissey laughed softly. “Oh Johnny. That statement is so ridiculous I shan’t even give it any clout.”

“What?” Johnny smiled. “Come on, spill the beans, Mozza.”

“There is nothing to spill, the musicians are all rather good but they have absolutely nothing on you.” Morrissey said firmly.

“You sure? Talented bunch, I’ve heard.”

“As I say, nothing on you.”

“You don’t cuddle all your band like this, do ya?”

“Again, do I need to dignify that with an answer?” Morrissey rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

Johnny laughed. “Alright fine, I’m just being a jealous bastard.”

Morrissey tutted. “Well stop. I should be the jealous one, who is the singer in your new band who has replaced me?”

“Moz, there’s no… new band. And no new singer. S’just me trying to go my own way and fucking failing.” Johnny sighed.

Their eyes met and Morrissey tilted his head slightly.

“You aren’t failing.”

“You don’t know that, you haven’t seen me these last few months, drinking, smoking…” Johnny frowned. “Being a prat.”

He gently brushed his thumb down the singers cheek, stroking his skin.

“You are just in a rut, thats all.” Morrissey sighed. His eyes fluttered at the gentle contact.

“A rut I cant climb out.” Johnny said shortly. “I think I’ll give up my notebook to you and see if you can help me with some lyrics or tunes.”

“Of course.” Morrissey nodded. He covered Johnny’s hand that was on his chest with his own, squeezing.

Johnny smiled then and looked down at the singer.

“Play me another of your songs?” Morrissey said. “It doesn’t matter if it’s unfinished. I just enjoy listening to you play.”

He shifted off Johnny’s lap to give him space again.

“Alright, but it’s all unfinished and rough.” Johnny said, grabbing the guitar.

He began to strum through songs, humming and singing various lyrics, some songs nearly complete and some just rough sketches of a tune.

Morrissey settled back on the sofa, legs crossed, watching and listening.

He’d always admired Johnny’s guitar playing and that had not changed since The Smiths had split up. His talent and skill always blew the singer away.

Eventually Johnny ended a tune, a pensive look on his face.

“Told you it was all unfinished chaos.” he said, setting the guitar down carefully.  
  
“I loved all of them.” Morrissey said immediately. “Particularly the second to last song. It reminded me of… Asleep.”  
  
Johnny smiled. “Spot on, Moz. Same chords. You clever thing.”

Morrissey laughed. “Oh you know. It only took six years for me to catch on.”  
  
He reached out for Johnny’s hand, taking it. “Please don’t think you are failing though, Johnny. You have so many good ideas in the mix, that is obvious. Don’t make it a challenge or see the songs as… something to overcome, just let it be. As I believe a semi famous band once said.”  
  
Johnny nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been trying too hard which has actually come back to bite me in the arse. Just need to chill out I think, been too stressed.” He squeezed the singers hand. “Thanks, darling.”

“I don't think you need my musical input.” Morrissey smiled. “You will be just fine. All I shall do is turn it into some mournful, depressive tune anyway.”  
Johnny tutted. “You aren't mournful or depressive, I like the way you say things, always have.”  
Morrissey rolled his eyes but was still smiling. “You’re very kind.”  
Johnny lifted his arm invitingly and Morrissey settled into his side, getting comfy.

“Remember when we wrote There Is A Light?” Johnny mused.

“Oh yes. Didn’t take us long, did it? That song sort of… wrote itself.” Morrissey nodded. “We did have a stand off though, about that hideous synthesiser.”  
  
Johnny laughed. “It was that or let some classical band in, so you gave in to the synth. Which I may add, I thought I did a pretty good job of.”  
  
“You did.” Morrissey lifted his leg over the guitarists, hooking them together. “I was just being a bit of a diva.”  
“You, a diva? Never.”  
  
“I wanted it to be absolutely perfect.” Morrissey sighed. “It is an annoying trait of mine. If it does not come out perfect then I simply bin it off. Many songs have gone that way..."  
  
“Well it was bloody spot on.” Johnny said. “Funny how one little idea turned into our most recognised song.”

“Yes. I must admit, performing it as a solo artist…” Morrissey winced slightly at the words. “It has been quite an odd experience.”  
  
Johnny exhaled then and nodded.

“I do miss turning and see you next to me on stage.” Morrissey said quietly.

“Me too.” Johnny murmured. He pulled the singer in tighter against his side. “I miss everything about you, really. Small things, even those daft gladioli.”  
  
Morrissey swallowed a lump in his throat.

The crushing reality that him and Johnny would never grace a stage together ever again was difficult to bear, even though he was starting to accept it.

He knew the band would never re-form.

The end had been fraught with tension, pain and angst.

Johnny leaving had been a double blow to the singer.

On one hand he was losing his musical partner, his muse, the only man who he felt comfortable to share his work with, to open his heart up to.

And on top of that he lost the man he loved, the man he spent every day with for five years until they started to fray at the seams.

Johnny getting married, withdrawing from him, being hot and cold.

It had all added to an impossibly difficult situation that ended up cracking apart disastrously.

“Moz?” Johnny’s voice was soft then, interrupting his thoughts.

“Sorry.” Morrissey whispered. “I lost myself.”

He turned, pressing his face into Johnny’s shoulder and inhaling.

“You’re ok.” Johnny murmured softly. “Hey, look at me?”  
  
Morrissey swallowed and lifted his gaze up, blue eyes meeting brown.

Johnny’s expression was full of worry.

“S’my fault. All of this pain is my fault.” he said quietly. “I know that. I just don't know how to make it better.”  
  
“You did what you thought was best for you.” Morrissey said. “There is nothing wrong-“  
  
“No, Moz, don’t let me off the hook.” Johnny looked anguished suddenly. “I was a total wanker, I left you, I left the band.”  
  
Morrissey pulled back slightly, heart racing. “Don’t, Johnny-“  
  
“Its true. I know we’ve been over this but…” Johnny trailed off. He slumped forwards suddenly, head in his hands.

Morrissey watched him for a moment, hot tears in his eyes.

“I know we’ve talked about this fifty thousand times but I still hate myself.” Johnny said, voice muffled. He stood up suddenly. “I need a cigarette-“  
  
“Wait.” Morrissey stood up just as fast. “Please, Johnny, listen to me for one second.”  
  
Johnny swallowed but nodded, looking back at the singer.

“You cannot punish yourself forever.” Morrissey said quietly. “God knows I have been over it in my own head a thousand times, but what is the point? What has happened has happened. We cannot change it now. You’re here now, I’m here now, that is something isnt it?”  
  
He reached out uncertainly, toying with the fabric of Johnny’s t-shirt.

Johnny nodded slowly, expression mixed.

“I suppose so.” he said. “I find it hard to forgive myself for causing so much fucking pain, all because I had some over inflated sense of self importance. And now look at me… I’m a mess.”  
  
“You aren’t a mess. And before you tell me you fled the tour… that doesn't matter, you are still unbelievably talented and you will get through this.” Morrissey said.   
  
Johnny caught the singers hand then and squeezed it.

“Thank you.” he murmured. “You’re the only one I believe about shit like this. Wouldn't hear it from anyone else.”

Morrissey smiled and they looked at each other for a long moment.

“Go have your cigarette and take a moment.” Morrissey said softly. “M’going to make us a cup of tea, ok? No more… despair, it is too early in the day.”  
  
Johnny huffed out a laugh. “Thanks Moz. You’re an angel.”  
  
With that he turned and disappeared out the studio, shoulders slumped.

Morrissey swallowed, glancing down at the guitar Johnny had been playing.   
  
Everything still seemed so fresh and painful, even though it had been months and months now…

He didn’t know how to speed up the process, how to stop the pain that came with missing Johnny.

Instead, he set the guitar down in its proper place and grabbed his notebook, spilling onto the page what he was struggling to say in words.  
  
*


	3. 3

*

Later in the day, Johnny called his manager.

“M’not looking forward to this.” he sighed, glancing over. “If you hear a few choice swear words coming from your hallway then don't worry about it, Moz.”  
  
Morrissey smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure he will be most relieved to hear you are ok.”  
  
“More like ready to give me a rollocking.” Johnny muttered. “Back in a bit.”  
  
Morrissey nodded and watched him disappear to where the phone was, nudging the door shut behind him.

Exhaling, the singer began to idly tidy up the kitchen, switching on the radio to kill the silence.

He paused at a familiar tune that was playing, _Hand In Glove_ …

Was the universe mocking him? He let the song play despite everything, contemplating for a moment what this situation meant for Johnny, for him.

He still could not quite believe he has turned up on the doorstep.

What about Angie and the band and the friends he had made, post _Smiths_?

On the surface he seemed to be having a grand old time, Morrissey thought wryly.

Clearly though, that wasn't quite the case when push came to shove.

It wasn’t hard to see that the pressure was taking its toll on him.

A minute later he heard Johnny’s voice for the first time, slightly raised and he glanced towards the closed door.

“… not happy, alright? I’m miserable, I cant do it, I just fucking cant do it.” Johnny was saying.   
  
Biting his lip and against better judgement, Morrissey slowly walked over, standing by the door.

There was another pause before he heard the guitarist speak.

“No, she doesn’t, m’gonna call her after this. We’re having problems, you know that.”

Another silence.

“I’m at Morrissey’s. Yes… yeah, I’ve been here the whole time. What d’ya mean why? Because he’s the only one who understands this insanity in my head?”

Morrissey swallowed then, something gripping him in his chest.

“I was a right state, I was a mess, he calmed me down and I feel a hundred times better.” Johnny was saying now. “I don’t know… a few more days so I can clear my head, why? Does it matter?”

More silence.

“Well whatever.” Johnny said then and his voice was suddenly angry, sharp. “I don’t give a fuck and don’t you fucking DARE dig at him, you got that? Do not. I had the courtesy to ring you and… d’ya know what, I’ve had it. I’m fine, I’m taking time for myself and yeah I’ll call fucking Angie. See you later.”

With that Morrissey heard the receiver click and Johnny exhale.

Slowly, he reached and pushed open the door.

Johnny was sat on the stairs, head in his hands. He glanced up at the sound of the door and his eyes were wet.

“Johnny.” Morrissey whispered thickly.

Johnny exhaled and stood up, opening his arms and gesturing for the singer.

Morrissey walked over and Johnny stepped from the stairs straight into the embrace.

They held each other tightly, gripping on as though they were clinging to a lifeline.

“I’m here.” Morrissey managed, voice wavering with emotion.

“Oh Moz.” Johnny whispered.

He sounded exhausted, burdened, beaten down.

He pulled back slightly and Morrissey did the same, their foreheads pressed together.

“Whatever he said, forget it, ok?” Morrissey said softly. “Nothing… absolutely nothing is as important as your state of mind and you health. Records can wait, shows can wait.”

Johnny nodded, exhaling.

“I was alright until he had a little dig at you.” he said quietly.

“Johnny, its ok-“

“No! It’s not, he doesn’t know fuck all, all he’s read is some NME tat.” Johnny snapped. “I’m not having it.”

He slid his hands up either side of Morrissey’s neck, sniffing. “Fuck sake, I’m wreck.”

“You’re not a wreck. You are emotional but that’s ok.” Morrissey said softly.

Johnny let out a deep sigh, swallowing.

“Nothing matters other than you state of mind.” Morrissey repeated softly. “God knows I’ve suffered enough. Please do not put it on the back burner. You need to take time.”

Johnny nodded.

“You’re right. Being here helps. I feel like a human being again. Not felt like that in months.”

He moved to slide his arm round the singer. “Come on, sick of thinking about that.”  
  
They made their way through the house and into the living room.

“I heard you say you are planning on calling Angie.” Morrissey said, clearing his throat. “Please do at any time, Johnny. The phone is there. I shall leave you in peace any time you wish to talk to her or… anyone.”  
  
Johnny sat down slowly on the sofa and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
“I… yeah. I should.” he said quietly.

Morrissey didn't speak, avoiding Johnny’s eyes by going over and looking out of the window at the desolate countryside.

There was a heavy silence between them.

“I feel like I should tell you what’s going on between me and her, but in another way I… don't feel like it's fair.” Johnny eventually spoke, voice low.

Morrissey glanced back, already feeling his heart rate kicking up.

“Why?”  
  
“You know why. I never used to talk about her because…” Johnny trailed off, struggling for words.  
  
“Because we were having an affair and you were engaged?” Morrissey said, trying to keep malice or accusation from his tone.

Johnny exhaled. “Yeah. I mean… fair enough.”  
  
“I’m not trying to dig at you Johnny. I’m just telling it like it is.”

“I know, you’re right. I put you in an awful position.” Johnny frowned then. “I still do.”  
  
Morrissey huffed out a laugh. “You could say that.”  
  
He folded his arms tightly. For the first time since Johnny had arrived he could feel his carefully controlled emotions beginning to rear up.

The resentment, the jealousy, the pain of being cast aside for someone else.

“I asked too much from you.” Johnny stood up then and took a couple of steps closer. “I couldn’t… give you up, still cant it seems. I couldn’t get rid of the other problems in my life either-“  
  
“Problems? Johnny, she is your _wife_. You married her.” Morrissey turned then, frowning.

Johnny met his eyes, looking stressed again.

“Moz please, lets not… do we need to re-hash this? Cant we cut out the middle part and I’ll just admit I’m a wanker?”  
  
Morrissey shook his head. “Why don't you change the rhetoric then?”  
  
“Because it's the truth! You know how I feel about you.”  
  
“But do you care how I feel? Cast aside, overlooked? Always second best?”  
  
“No.” Johnny stepped closer again, shaking his head. His eyes were full of emotion. “No, you aren't second best in my world, Moz. I gave… I _tried_ to give you everything I possibly could.”

Morrissey swallowed, his heart racing.

He felt sick.

“Why did you come here and just not go home?”

“Really? You’re asking why I’m here with you, isn’t that… don’t you _want_ that?” Johnny sounded half confused, half angry.

Morrissey exhaled. “This unrelenting back and forth, how long has it been going on?”

“I thought we’d been through this a thousand times and established the situation?”

“What, that you married a woman, yet you look upon me with contempt when I tell you I have been out to dinner with someone?”

Johnny swallowed then, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “Fine, I didn’t go home because I don’t wanna be there with her, ok? That what you wanna hear?”

“No.” Morrissey said then, voice heavy with pain. “Not particularly.”

“Well its the truth.” Johnny shrugged. He pushed his hand through his hair. “Fucking hell. What do you want me to say?”

Morrissey turned back to stare out of the window.

He focused on the leaves blowing idly across the grass, trying to calm his mind.

He didn’t want to break down for the thousandth time about this but his life felt like a constant merry go round.

“Moz.” Johnny said then, voice already tinged with regret. “Look at me, christ?”

Morrissey did so, glancing back.

“I missed you. Every fucking day, ok? I don’t wanna hurt you.” Johnny pressed.

“And I don’t wish to be hurt anymore by this situation, but it’s what, six years now? I feel as though my life just repeats itself.” Morrissey said.

“I’ve asked you if you want me to go, not come back? Cut ties?” Johnny’s voice was quiet this time. He looked almost sorrowful.

“We both know that wouldn’t work.” Morrissey frowned. “You know as well as I do that we are incapable of leaving each other alone.”

“I can try. If it means I’m not hurting you over and over.” Johnny stepped towards him, eyes unsure.

Morrissey clenched his jaw.

“I know it’s not right, me doing this.” Johnny said softly. “But it’s not as easy to just walk away from you.”

“And I begged you, three days before you got married.” Morrissey said quietly. “I pleaded with you to just think about that decision. Yet you still went ahead and did it.”

Johnny swallowed, body tensed now. “Steven-“

“No, no. Do not _Steven_ me.” Morrissey said, voice thick now. “What more can I do for you? Since day one I have been with you, I accepted this absolute dire _mess_ of a situation, I let it develop and go on when we in reality should have just stopped it, cut it off early doors-”

“I can’t let you go.” Johnny repeated, voice pressed with urgency now. “I can’t do that.”

Morrissey met his eyes, a lump in his throat now.

He felt sick, weary and exhausted.

“I know it’s messed up.” Johnny said. “And I don't expect anything from you, I told you that at the start. If I make snide fucking comments about you having dinner with some bloke, its because I’m jealous ok? I have no right to be, but I am, thats my own cross to bear. Not yours.”

“Why did you go to the Brixton gig without telling me?” Morrissey whispered.

Johnny blinked, as though he wasn’t expecting the question.

He paused for a second before speaking.

“I told you, I wanted to talk to you, initially. But as I watched the gig I… heard every single lyric you sang, I heard the pain, the despair. Knowing you were singing about me was…” he exhaled. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you the entire gig, you were unbelievable.”

Their eyes met again and Morrissey didn’t speak, expression unreadable.

“Seeing you be so uninhibited and so _you_ was unreal. You looked so fucking good, like a dream. I didn’t look away. I don’t wanna ever look away.” Johnny said quietly. “But I bottled it, I didn’t want make you uncomfortable with the knowledge I’d been watching. So I just fucked off back to the hotel, got high and thought about you the entire night.”

Morrissey stayed quiet.

“All this time I’ve been off trying to be some big break out star.” Johnny laughed bitterly. “I’ve been kidding myself. Every time I’m alone with my thoughts I just think of you, us. Waking up in bed I just long for the days when you’d be there, cuddled up with me, telling me what I wanna hear.”

“And what is that?” Morrissey whispered, voice shaky.

Johnny stepped closer to him, reaching up and sliding a hand down the back of the singers neck.

“You know what.” he said softly. “How much you love me, want me.”

Morrissey swallowed, eyes wet now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. Please?” Johnny murmured.

He rested his other hand on the singers side, brushing his thumb across his hip bone.

“You think you are the only one incapable of giving this up?” Morrissey said. “As difficult as it is existing in this world, without you would be even worse. So that is my cross to bear.”

Johnny nodded.

“Shall I go for a few days, give you some space?”

Morrissey shook his head immediately, feeling defeated. “No. You leaving has never done me any good.”

“I don’t want to. Just want whats best for you, Moz.” Johnny murmured.

He tilted his head, studying the singers intensely blue eyes.

Morrissey nodded slowly.

Johnny slid his hand up through the singers quiff, touch gentle.

“Would you like me to go for a walk, leave you alone here for a bit?”

“I’d like it if you... stopped this ugly, self deprecating voice in my head.” Morrissey said, voice full of pain.

Johnny frowned. He grabbed the singers hand and pulled him back across the room to the sofa.

He sat down and Morrissey slipped sideways onto his lap, cuddling in.

“I’m sorry.” Johnny said, getting comfy and wrapping his arms round the other mans slim frame. “Talk to me, darling?”

Morrissey sighed deeply and butted his head against Johnny’s shoulder.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to speak, Johnny kissed his temple softly.

“Ok. I’ll tell you a little memory, yeah? Let’s see, remember our London gig, eighty-three?”

Morrissey nodded, sliding his hand up and grasping Johnny’s t-shirt, twisting the material lightly.  
  
“We had a mad concert didn't we? The fans were nuts. Then the next night we buggered off on our own without telling anyone. Went round all the posh shops on Oxford Street, checked our some cafes, bought some records.” Johnny murmured.

He slipped his hand under the singers shirt, gently stroking his warm skin.

Morrissey sighed and nodded again.

“We skipped around, being prats. High on life and each other.” Johnny smiled. “Then at midnight we finally walked back to the hotel through the quiet streets. You telling me off because I kept holding your hand all the time.”

Morrissey bit his lip, the memory sharp in his mind, Johnny’s hand tightly in his own in the darkness.

“You were so beautiful that night.” Johnny breathed. “You still are. Six years? All you’ve done is got more dream-like. Less lanky and awkward, more international sex symbol now.”

Morrissey huffed out a laugh. “I don’t quite think thats correct.”

“Its spot on.” Johnny insisted. “I was enamoured with you since the first day I met you. Still am. And so was everyone at your show.”

“Oh stop. They were probably just drunk.” Morrissey said, face still pressed against the guitarists shoulder.

“You’ll believe me one day.” Johnny sighed.

He turned and kissed the singer softly on the temple.

They fell into silence then, the tension and angst dissipating.

“How you feeling Moz?” Johnny eventually asked.

“A little better.” Morrissey whispered.He still had not moved, eyes shut.

“Wanna stay like this?” Johnny checked and Morrissey nodded immediately.  
  
“Ok.” Johnny settled back against the sofa and dropped another kiss to the singers temple.

“I apologise if I… threw some things back in your face.” Morrissey said then, voice quiet.

“You didn't, everything you said was a valid point.” Johnny murmured. “I’m the bad guy, always have been-“  
“Johnny-“  
  
“No, no, I’m not fishing for compliments Moz. I haven’t been fair to you.” Johnny said. “You were right, the rational side of my brain says we should have cut things off back then before they developed. But… love isn't rational is it? I was mad for you, still am.”  
  
Morrissey pulled back then, blinking.

“Well I was rather into you as well. I don't quite think I did a good job of hiding it.” he smiled softly, lowering his eyes.

“You were lovely.” Johnny smiled. “Still are. It was easy to fall into what we had.”  
  
Morrissey nodded, reaching out and beginning to trace a silver chain Johnny had on round his neck.

Being with Johnny was as natural as breathing and he knew that nothing would have stopped what developed between them back at the start.

“We are just very alike, I think.” he said softly. “The whole Irish parents, working class, music loving, lost souls scenario.”  
  
Johnny nodded, letting his fingers drift up across the singers jawline, touch gentle.

Morrissey exhaled then and met the guitarists eyes again.

“That dinner.” he said quietly, referring back to their argument. “You should know, it was nothing of value and nothing to write home about.”  
  
Johnny frowned then. “Sorry. That was… yeah. M’just jealous.” he admitted. “You can do what you like, with whoever you like and I cant say a thing.”  
  
“I know that. But it doesn't mean I want to, Johnny.”  
  
“Its not my place to get possessive, I just do. Bad habits die hard.”  
  
“Well. I do recall _one_ such incident in a club in Hamburg.” Morrissey said, biting his lip to stop himself smiling.

Johnny winced slightly. “Yeah. Like I said… I can be a jealous wanker.”

The 1985 Smiths tour had been in full swing by the time they had arrived in Germany and after their successful gig the band plus their crew had gone out to a club.

With alcohol flowing heavily, Morrissey recalled being pretty drunk only a couple of hours into the shenanigans.

And he’d ended up dancing on the packed dancefloor, getting quite up close and intimate with a few willing men.

He remembered unfamiliar hands on his hips, being pressed up against a taller body than Johnny’s, a suggestive voice in his ear.

In his hazy memory he recalled Johnny appearing on the dancefloor and practically hauling him away, taking his hand and pulling him outside to the freezing night air.

When Morrissey had protested Johnny had started lecturing him about creepy fans and spiked drinks and how he was going to end up in tomorrow’s papers and then what?

“I think that was the first time I’d really seen you get annoyed.” Morrissey said.  
  
“Well, some blokes hands all over you was enough to get me on the dancefloor and drag you away.” Johnny sighed.

He cupped the singers cheek, stroking his skin softly. “You’re too lovely for people who just wanna use you because of who you are.”   
  
Morrissey exhaled softly.

“So I have to exist in loneliness when I don't see you?” he said, the age old question making Johnny shift on the spot, guilt crossing his expression.

“No Moz… I just don't want you to end up with someone who is just using you.” he said quietly. “And I sincerely hope that you don't think I am just using you, either.”

“Of course I don't think that.” Morrissey backed down immediately.

He relaxed back in, tucking his head against Johnny’s neck.

Johnny tightened his grip on the singers slim frame then and they fell into silence again, both of their minds over working with thoughts and emotions.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” Johnny spoke eventually, voice soft.

The light was fading out now, casting a soft glow over the room.

“I was thinking about the Brixton gig again.” Morrissey said honestly. “Every… silly moment, every emotional moment, every choked out word. It is rather strange to know you saw it all. I don’t know why, it's not as though you haven’t seen me sing before, we shared a stage for five years.”

“Do you feel like I invaded your… space?” Johnny asked.

“No. I just cringe a little.” Morrissey huffed out a laugh. “You didn't even have to guess that I was singing about you the majority of the time, it was clearly obvious. I like to project this image I am some _mysterious man_ but I’m clearly an open book.”  
  
“Thats not…” Johnny frowned. “Look at me Moz?”  
  
The singer did so, lifting his head.

“You don't need to cringe, you were unbelievable.” Johnny said. “I couldn’t stop looking at you, darling. And knowing some of the lyrics were for me…” he swallowed. “That was something indescribable. It felt like room shrunk down to just me and you even though all these people were there.”  
  
Morrissey looked thoughtful. “And what did you think of my new… _material_?”  
  
“I loved it.” Johnny said honestly. “All of it. You are such a talent, Mozza. This is just the beginning for you, yeah?”  
  
Morrissey sighed then and reached back out to twist his finger in Johnny’s necklace.

“I never wanted to do this on my own.” he said quietly. “You know that.”  
  
Johnny nodded. “I know.”  
  
“I still don’t enjoy it the same way. It wont ever be the same as The Smiths. You feel so much more vulnerable, more open, being there alone.” Morrissey said softly. “Its all eyes on you. There is no back up. Yes I have the band, who are very good. But it isn't the same.”  
  
He shifted then off Johnny’s lap and stood up, fighting sudden tears.

“Moz…” Johnny stood up also, reaching out and skimming his hand down the singers side. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to… upset you.”

“It will just take some getting used to. All of this.” Morrissey whispered.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“You want me to give you a bit of space now?” Johnny asked quietly.

“I think I need a gin and tonic, rather than space.” Morrissey said honestly.

Johnny smiled tentatively. “Ok. Come on. I know how you like your G and T.”  
  
He slipped an arm round the singer and pulled him back to the kitchen.

The cats were sitting on the side and Johnny nodded to the sofa. “You, sit. Me and Vera and Jimmy will knock you up a bedtime tonic.”  
  
Morrissey smiled at that and obeyed. He watched Johnny move around his kitchen, conflicted as ever in his emotions.

Knowing there was always a limit on their time together.

But it always felt so completely natural and right to have Johnny next to him.

Their codependency never seemed to end.

“…he like ice? You can spill the beans.” Johnny’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Morrissey smiled again. He was talking to the cats. “Come on, he’s your Dad ain’t he?”  
  
The cats, of course, stared at Johnny with contempt.

“You must speak to them as equals.” Morrissey laughed softly.

“Oh right. Well, _Vera_ , does this G and T require ice?” Johnny asked in a mock sincere tone.

Vera miaowed on cue.

Johnny blinked. “Blimey. It worked.”  
  
He grabbed some ice from the freezer and took the two drinks over, sitting down next to the singer.

“What you smiling about?” he grinned, handing one over.

“Oh nothing.” Morrissey said softly. “Thank you.”  
  
He sipped his drink and sighed in relief. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Johnny nodded.

“Sorry it's been a difficult day.” he said. “I feel like all I do is invite drama into your life.”  
  
“Well, there isn't much otherwise so I wouldn't worry.”  
  
“Moz… you know what I mean. I don't wanna infringe on you.”

“You aren't.” Morrissey said. “Stop with that line of talk Johnny, please. I am here any time you need me, ok? Whatever has… gone before between us has happened now, there is too much water under the bridge to act like we don't know the best and worst of each other now."  
  
Johnny exhaled then, staring into his drink. “Yeah. If anyone knows my shortcomings its you. God knows why you even talk to me.”  
  
Morrissey rolled his eyes. “You know very well why.” he muttered.

Johnny took a gulp his drink and sighed. “The feeling is mutual.”

He smiled as one of the cats jumped up onto his lap then, settling down.

“Your namesake approves.” Morrissey smiled.

“I knew Jimmy was named after me.” Johnny laughed, stroking the cats fur. “I’m gonna buy a turtle or something and name him _Steven_.”

“I don't know who Steven is.” Morrissey said airily, glancing around.  
  
“I still see Steven in your eyes, sometimes.” Johnny laughed. “All shy and awkward with funny cardigans.”  
  
Morrissey rolled his eyes again and gulped some more drink.

“There was not a thing wrong with my cardigans. In _fact_ , Maher, you used to wear them.”  
  
“You were a trend setter, I see people in them all the time now. We were ahead of the time.”  
  
“We?” Morrissey looked amused. “I don't recall you wearing one fashionable item in the six years I have known you.”  
  
“If I didn't have a drink in my hand and a cat on my knee I would fight you right now.” Johnny laughed, kicking the singer lightly on the ankle. “I would kiss the cheek right off your smug face.”  
  
Morrissey raised an eyebrow. “You can very well try but who says I would reciprocate?”  
  
Johnny smirked, meeting his eyes. “Mr playing hard to get, as always.”

“Ah well. Where would be the fun in just giving you what you want?” Morrissey laughed. He knocked back his gin and stood up, wandering over to the fridge.

“Always leaving me in suspense.” Johnny sighed.

He paused then as Jimmy the cat stood up and stretched before leaping off the sofa and disappearing.

“Rejected by _two_ Morrissey’s in one minute, what a shocker.” Johnny picked up his gin and necked it in one.  
  
“Ah, I forgot. You don’t do well with me telling you no.” Morrissey said, pouring himself a wine this time and leaning against the counter.

Their eyes met across the kitchen.

“Just a sensitive soul.” Johnny said, putting on a mock sad expression.

“Oh hush.” Morrissey grabbed his wine and walked back, sitting down again next to the guitarist. “There is only room in this house for one dramatic, melancholy and mournful soul and it is I.”  
  
Johnny nodded and mirrored his body language to face him. “And I wouldn't have you any other way, my love.”  
  
They looked at each other for a long minute.

“What are you thinking?” Morrissey asked eventually, voice soft.

“Just about life.” Johnny said honestly. “Me, you… how many moments we’ve shared like this, just sitting, laughing and being silly.”

“Far too many and yet… not enough.” Morrissey said wistfully.

He sipped his wine and glanced out the window at the dark skies for a long minute before speaking again. “Do you know how long you’ll be staying?”  
  
Johnny shook his head slowly, something crossing his expression. “No… but you gotta tell me if I’m in the way, Moz.”  
  
Morrissey smiled. “Of course you’re not.”  
  
“You will get sick of me.” Johnny laughed. He leant forward and took the singers glass, drinking some of his wine.

“I highly doubt that.”  
  
“Well I’m not all rainbows and butterflies in your life, am I?”  
  
Morrissey rolled his eyes. “You think that is what my life is? I am permanently suspended between ambivalence and despair.”  
  
“You’re just sensitive, you feel things on a deeper level than us mere mortals.” Johnny set the wine down and reached out, tracing his hand down the singers cheek.

Morrissey smiled, eyes closing at the contact. “Thank you for the validation.”  
  
They stayed that way for a long minute before Morrissey unexpectedly yawned.

“Go on, go bed.” Johnny murmured. “M’gonna… maybe go use the studio, play guitar for a bit if thats ok?”  
  
“Yes, of course, whatever you like.” Morrissey nodded.

He stood up and stretched, grabbing his empty wine glass and taking it to the sink.

Johnny stood up as well and caught the singer round the waist as he walked back across, hugging him.

Morrissey laughed and slid his arms round Johnny tightly.

“Night, love.” Johnny said. “Tomorrow… it wont be so angsty, I promise.”  
  
“Ah what’s life without a little pain.” Morrissey whispered. “It is what it is.”  
  
Johnny nodded and pull back, pushing his hand gently through the singers quiff.“Sleep well, darling. If you cant sleep and need me I’ll just be out the back playing for a bit, yeah?”

Morrissey smiled softly. “Thank you.” he whispered. “Goodnight.”

He dropped his head and kissed Johnny on the cheek before disappearing out the kitchen.

Johnny swallowed, watching him go.

Mind full of thoughts and emotions he headed for the studio to try and outlet some of his frustrations the best way he knew how.

*****  
  
When Morrissey awoke, it was from the creak of his bedroom door.

He blinked in the darkness, mind catching up for a second.

“Johnny?” he murmured, voice heavy.  
  
“Yeah, s’me.”  
  
He heard footsteps and then the bed dipped as Johnny sat down next to him.

Morrissey blinked again, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

He had no idea how late it was.

“Sorry, Moz.” Johnny whispered. “Just… wanted to see you before I sleep.”  
  
He reached out and Morrissey sighed as he felt a gentle hand caressing his cheek.

“Are you ok?” he murmured.  
  
“Yeah. Just, you know. In my own head a bit.” Johnny said quietly.

Morrissey pushed himself up slightly on his elbows and their eyes met in the dim light.

Johnny smiled tentatively.

He was dressed for bed, a pensive expression lingering on his face.  
  
“Sorry I woke you. Just wanted to see you.” he repeated quietly.

“Oh, it’s ok.” Morrissey sighed.

He pushed his messy hair back, yawning. “Is it very late?”  
  
“About one?” Johnny guessed. “Just, you know, stuck in that song writing state of mind. You know how it gets.”  
  
Morrissey nodded his understanding.   
  
He shifted until he was sat with his back to the padded headboard and pulled the blankets aside invitingly.

Johnny climbed in beside him without hesitation.

“This feels rather familiar.” Morrissey murmured.

Johnny laughed. “I know. Like I said, some things change… but not everything.”  
  
He lifted his arm up then and Morrissey laid his head against the other mans shoulder.

“I missed this.” Johnny whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Me too.” Morrissey admitted softly.

He shut his eyes, exhaling.

It was as though they had been transported back five years, back to being younger and more care free and in love… not yet weighed down by pain and angst and arguments and disputes. How he longed to be back with Johnny every day like this.Despite everything, Johnny’s soft words and kisses and affection had seen him through some of his most difficult times, there was no denying that.  
  
“Moz?” Johnny whispered then, bringing him back from his own mind.

“Sorry.” Morrissey swallowed. He felt for Johnny’s hand and the guitarist took it, twining their fingers.

“You’re crying?” Johnny said then, concern lacing his tone.

“No, no. Just getting a little reminiscent.” Morrissey breathed.

He shifted his leg over Johnny’s, hooking them together.

Silence fell over the room then and Johnny kept his arm round the other man, rubbing his hand up and down his arm.

“What did you want to talk to me about? Or see me for?” Morrissey broke the quiet.

Johnny shrugged lightly. “Nothing, just... this really.”  
  
“And how did you get on in the studio?” Morrissey yawned, turning and nuzzling his face against Johnny’s neck.

“Good. Better than I have in months.” Johnny admitted. “Being with you is always good for me, I reckon. Good for the soul.”  
  
“I’m glad.” Morrissey breathed. He shut his eyes and Johnny kissed him again on the top of the head.  
  
“Ok Mozza, c’mon. Bedtime.”  
  
Morrissey shook his head, nuzzling in closer and Johnny laughed.

“You’re exhausted, come on, lie down. I’ll stay for five minutes if you want?”  
  
“Yes. I do want.” Morrissey breathed.

They got into bed properly then, Johnny spooning up behind the singer, their bodies fitting together with ease after so many years.

“There, that alright?” Johnny checked, pulling the blanket up over them.

"Oh yes.” Morrissey sighed.

After many months of loneliness and an empty bed, having Johnny back was surreal.

He smiled sleepily as Johnny kissed the back of his neck softly. “Goodnight, Moz. And thanks.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“This. For giving me space. Letting me… sort my head out. You do more for me than anyone in my life. I wont forget it.” Johnny promised.

“I would do it all again. Even the bad parts.” Morrissey sighed.

He grasped Johnny’s hand tightly and the guitarist nodded. “I know. Just got lucky with you, didn’t I? S’like we were meant to be.”  
  
Morrissey nodded, blinking away more tears. “Yes. I believe so.”  
  
He cuddled back and Johnny let out a long breath. “Sleep now, babe. We’re getting all emotional and stupid.”  
  
“Welcome to my state of being.” Morrissey laughed softly. “Goodnight.”  
  
“Night.” Johnny echoed.

He slipped his hand up other mans chest and began to gently rub his hand back and forth.   
  
The gesture settled the singer immediately.

Before he could even consider anything else it was as though someone had pressed a button in his mind and he was asleep, comforted as ever in Johnny’s arms.  
  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed this about 20 times so forgive any mistakes!! And thanks again for everyone kudos & comments :)


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate the end of this haha, thats why I might add another damn chapter on..... thanks again for all the support and kind comments, it's really really helped me keep writing and not just give up lmao.

*

Johnny could feel consciousness rolling over him slowly, like a wave.

He exhaled and blinked, forcing his eyes open.

An unfamiliar ceiling.

He turned immediately, glancing around.

Of course, Moz’s room.

Next to him, the bed was empty.

Reaching for his watch, Johnny squinted at the time. Half ten.

He listened for a moment but the house was quiet.

He pulled on some clothes and lingered for a second in the room, taking in Morrissey’s little artefacts, books and records.

Inherently, he hadn’t changed in the six years Johnny knew him.

Still the same music loving, bashful boy from Stretford.

Although he carried himself a little differently now.  
  
Despite his shyness he was more confident in himself, his insecurities loosened by herds of adoring fans.

And probably Johnny’s own affections.

The further they’d got into their relationship, the more the singer had flourished.

Johnny had enjoyed nothing more than seeing the other mans inhibitions unwinding every time they slept together.

He’d always craved Johnny’s praise, wanted the guitarists eyes on him and was willing to do whatever he could to attract his attention.

He thought back to their crossed words the day before and exhaled.

There was no denying he hadn’t been fair to the singer.

He had let their relationship progress when perhaps it would’ve been fairer to cut it off…

But Johnny knew in his heart that would never have amounted to real life.

The attraction and chemistry between them was instant, unparalleled.

He’d never felt such an intense connection with anyone and that scared the life out of him. He never expected a softly spoken, shy boy to capture his attention and his heart, but here he was.

Still running back to Morrissey when shit got hard. Still leaning on him, physically and emotionally.

Johnny sighed again and looked at himself in the mirror.

Some of the blinding panic and pain he’d felt when he’d done a bunk from his new bandmates had simmered down now. God knows where he stood with them.

His desire to fit in and be seen as his own man had manage to come back to bite him in the arse spectacularly.

He frowned at his own reflection before turning away and heading downstairs.

“Moz?” he called, heading for the kitchen.

Sure enough, Morrissey was sitting on a kitchen bar stool, a steaming cup in front of him.

A newspaper was spread in front of him and one of the cats was sitting on the surface.

He looked up and smiled softly and Johnny smiled back, his heart rate calming down.

“Sleep well?” Johnny ventured, walking over to him.

“Yes. I did forget how much you steal the blankets, though.” Morrissey said.

Johnny laughed and wrapped his arms round the singer from behind for a moment, kissing his temple.   
  
“Thats a fat lie, it’s you who steals ‘em. What ya reading, dare I ask?” He looked at the newspaper, scanning the page.

“Oh just more tyranny, more lies, more mind control.“ Morrissey said lightly, turning the page.

“Sounds exciting in the morning.” Johnny yawned. “Ok if I make a tea?”  
  
“Of course, eat and drink whatever you can find.” Morrissey smiled.

Johnny nodded and busied himself making some toast, stroking Vera the cat who was perched haughtily on the side.

“She’s been giving me a distrusting look ever since I rolled up.” Johnny commented, buttering his toast. “I think she’s onto me.”  
  
“She is very perceptive.” Morrissey nodded, turning another page of his newspaper. “Jimmy is the wild one, she is the thinker.”  
  
“Sounds very familiar.” Johnny bit his toast and jumped up onto the worktop, swinging his legs. He glanced out the window at the frosty, cold morning. “Any plans for today?”  
  
“I was scheduled originally to go to the studio.” Morrissey sighed. “I just loathe the place at the moment, so I am likely not going to bother. I do better writing here.”  
  
Johnny nodded slowly. “Don't go if it doesn't serve any purpose, Moz.”  
  
“The label team already think I am rather odd.” Morrissey shrugged, folding up the newspaper and meeting Johnny’s eyes. “So what does it matter.”  
  
“You’re not odd.” Johnny frowned. “Did they say that? I’ll knock ‘em out.”  
  
Morrissey laughed then, looking amused. “Very chivalrous of you.”  
  
“I mean it.” Johnny sipped his tea. “Fuck ‘em if they say anything. You’re the most talented one they’ve got.”  
  
“You don’t even know who else is on the label…”  
  
“So? I know they wont be as talented at you.”  
  
“You are very kind.” Morrissey smiled, rubbing the back of his neck self consciously “Thank you.”

“If you need help with…. you know, a tune, a base line, I can pitch in.” Johnny shrugged.  
  
“Thank you.” Morrissey repeated. “Perhaps it would also aid you with your songs?”  
  
Johnny exhaled. “Maybe. Forgot how to write, play, the lot.”  
  
“You played perfectly yesterday, Johnny. Nothing’s changed.” Morrissey said gently.

Their eyes met again and Johnny smiled.

“Yeah. Just being dramatic Moz. Ignore me, yeah?”  
  
Morrissey smiled and slid off the stool, grabbing his empty mug.

He walked round and placed it in the sink.

“I have to go out today, just to the post office and few errands.”  
  
“Thats alright love, do whatever. As long as you don’t mind me hanging round like a homeless chancer.”  
  
“Of course not.” Morrissey sighed. He paused by Johnny and reached out.

The guitarist took his hand immediately, pulling him in closer.   
  
“Come here, didn’t get a good morning cuddle in bed because you’d done a bunk.”  
  
“You looked too peaceful to disturb.” Morrissey smiled.

He allowed Johnny to draw him in and he wriggled inside the other mans legs where he was still sprawled carelessly on the worktop.

“Much better.” Johnny said, wrapping his arms round the singer and hugging him.

Morrissey sighed, relaxing into the embrace, any tension leaving his body.

They stayed that way for a long minute, the room quiet.

“Not falling asleep on me again are ya?” Johnny murmured.

“Hmm. Perhaps. I forgot how comforting you are to sleep with. I think I passed out last night.”  
  
“You did.” Johnny nodded. He turned, pressing a kiss to the singers cheek. “Was a nice treat.”  
  
“Being in bed with me? Many would agree.” Morrissey laughed.

“Oh shut up.” Johnny smirked. “That how it is?”  
  
He pulled back and Morrissey looked amused. “How what is?”  
  
“Have I gotta fight off even more hordes of fans now? Or fancy men?” Johnny sighed over dramatically. “Because I bloody will.”  
  
Morrissey raised an eyebrow. “Even if such information existed, I doubt you would want to be privy to it.”  
  
“Course I would.”  
  
“For what purpose?”  
  
“Told ya, so I could fight off any competition.” Johnny laughed.

He studied the singers intensely blue eyes, cupping his cheek. “You’re bloody gorgeous. I don't doubt you’ve got many people trying to sneak their way into bed with you.”

“Well you are completely wrong.” Morrissey said, leaning into the touch. “Interest level zero.”

“Well more fool them.” Johnny murmured.

He brushed his thumb lightly across the singers cheek before tracing his jawline.

Morrissey swallowed, remaining still.

“This ok?” Johnny checked.

“Yes. Of course.” Morrissey sighed. He settled both his hands on Johnny’s shoulders, laughing softly as the guitarist used his legs to draw him in even closer, locking his ankles.

“Got ya.” Johnny smirked.

They looked at each other again for a long moment.

“Am I… ya know, boundary crossing?” Johnny asked quietly.

“I should imagine so.” Morrissey whispered, but made no attempt to move.

Johnny nodded slowly.

“Maybe… later. We need to hash it out. The boundary line.” he said.

“I think that has been blurred since day one and will forever continue to be blurred.” Morrissey said.

He studied Johnny intensely then, searching his eyes.

“What?” Johnny asked softly.

“I don't know.” Morrissey answered honestly. He leant in, pressing his head against Johnny’s shoulder.   
  
“Don’t stress, Moz.” Johnny murmured. “You go… do your thing, yeah? Run your errands. M”gonna work on some more music. We can talk properly later, if you want?”  
  
“Yes.” Morrissey nodded. “Thank you.”

Johnny kissed him on the temple before releasing him.

He laughed as Vera the cat suddenly got up and walked along the worktop, settling next to him.

“Oh I see how it is.” Morrissey smiled. “I have been replaced.”  
  
“Seems so.” Johnny nodded. “Sorry Moz. She’s made her choice.”  
  
Morrissey laughed. “I shall depart then. Do you need anything?”  
  
Johnny thought for a moment. “No thanks. Oh, maybe a packet of cigarettes?”  
  
“Same ones as ever?”  
  
“Same as ever.” Johnny sighed. “I’m trying to quit but… its fucking hard. Just cutting down for now I suppose.”  
  
Morrissey nodded, pulling on a jacket. “I’m sure. Hence why I never started.”

He felt for his wallet before smiling. “I wont be long.”  
  
“Alright darling, see you in a bit.” Johnny nodded.

He watched as the singer disappeared and he heard the front door open and then close again.

He sat for a long moment before sliding off the worktop and heading back upstairs to shower, his mind already on the next inevitable conversation he knew he was going to have to have.

**

  
“So you didn’t even think to CALL me?”  
  
“Angie-“  
  
“I was worried sick, Johnny! I had your manager on the phone, asking me where you were, no one even knew where you’d fucked off to!”  
  
“ANGIE!” Johnny snapped, gripping the phone. “I’m sorry alright? It all got too much, it’s… it’s too much pressure.”  
  
Silence.

“Well why didn’t you come home then?” she asked.

Johnny swallowed. “I don’t know.”  
  
“I had to hear it second hand that you’ve gone to Morrissey’s?” Angie spluttered.

Johnny exhaled. “Yeah, just for a few days.”  
  
“Why him?” she asked.

Johnny shut his eyes then. “I didn’t know… what to say to you, how to explain I’d done a bunk. I knew he’d… not ask too many questions.”  
  
“So you’ve gone back to a bloke who you were so desperate to get away from?” Angie laughed then.

“I never said I wanted to get away from him.” Johnny said, already feeling his defences coming up.

“You broke up the band, Johnny.”  
  
“Well, things change. I’ve changed.”  
  
“Don’t I know it. I haven’t seen you in weeks and you didn’t even think of me first.” Angie said in a tight voice.

Johnny frowned, rubbing his eyes. “Its not about that. I came to Moz’s because I needed space, I knew he’d let me cool off.”  
  
“And he didn’t mind his former bandmate rolling up?”  
  
“Of course he did! But he still let me in.”  
  
Angie sighed. “Right well, ok. So when are you coming back? Tonight?”  
  
Johnny shifted then. “No.”  
  
Silence.

“I’m gonna stay a few more days. Moz is letting me use his studio and its really helping, I’ve already achieved more than I have in the last few months.”  
  
“Right, fine.” Angie sighed. “I suppose I’ll see you when you’ve got this our your system.”  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m fine, just… the pressure was too much, it was messing with my head.” Johnny muttered. “I’ll call you in a few days.”  
  
“Fine, whatever.”  
  
The phone clicked off.

Johnny exhaled again, setting the receiver down.

He leant his head against the wall for a long moment before standing up.

Despite the angst he felt relieved to have got the conversation over with.

He headed to the studio and grabbed the guitar, beginning to play, wandering around idly.

He spotted Morrissey’s notebook and swallowed, eyes flickering to the door.

Before he could stop himself he grabbed the notebook carefully, opening it.

It was full of the singers recognisable scrawled handwriting.

Some pages held full songs, some just the odd line.

Johnny sat down and read carefully, his throat tightening.

The lyrics were full of angst, despair, heartache.

Caused by him.

His eyes lingered over one song, his eyes re-reading the last lines over and over..

_some people have got no pride_

_they do not understand the urgency of life_

_but I love you more than life…_

Johnny exhaled, dropping the notebook and resting his head in his hands.

The gravity of the situation suddenly hit him.

What the hell was he doing?

Messing Morrissey around like this.

The singer was never going to be able to move on, find someone else whilst Johnny still lingered in his life.

Just the fleeting thought of it made him feel sick.

An image of Morrissey kissing someone else?

Writhing in bed under someone else?

Looking at them with the same devoted eyes he gave Johnny?

It felt so wrong, it made Johnny’s chest physically ache with jealousy and pain.

He swallowed the tears back, sitting for a long while, running everything over in his mind.

They had to talk, properly, he knew that.

Shakily, Johnny stood up and put the guitar back in its place and set the notebook down.

He headed back to the kitchen and idly made a coffee, looking up as he heard the sound of the front door.

A moment later Morrissey appeared with two bags in hand, his hair windswept and cheeks pink.

He smiled at Johnny and Johnny smiled back, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Get on ok?” he asked.

“Yes. This is all fan mail.” Morrissey smiled, putting one of the heavy bags down. “There is another but I couldn’t carry it… it shall keep me busy anyway.”

Johnny smiled.

He watched as Morrissey put various items away in the cupboard and fridge, keeping up an idle chatter as he did so.

“Did you manage to do any writing or playing?” Morrissey asked.

“Yeah, yeah, a bit.” Johnny lied.

Morrissey paused to look at him then. “What’s wrong?”

“I… spoke to Angie.” Johnny said quietly, deciding it was better to just tell the truth. “I called her. It went fucking awful.”

Morrissey didn’t reply for a long moment. “How so?”

“She just shouted at me, told me I’m selfish and… asked why I’m with you.” Johnny shrugged.

Morrissey looked surprised. “You told her you were here?”

“Course.” Johnny leant against the counter.

“I think my name is mud to her.” Morrissey muttered, stowing a bag away.

His body was already tensing up at the mention of her.

“I’m the bad guy, Moz, not you.” Johnny sighed. “She was just mad at me, demanding I go back. When I told her no she didn’t like it but…. that’s not my problem, its hers.”

Morrissey raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak.

“Anyway, sorry.” Johnny frowned. “Didn’t mean to offload. Feel relieved really. And I just wanted to check it’s really ok to stay?”

Morrissey sighed, turning to look at him. “You know it is.”

Johnny nodded. “Thanks love.” he whispered. “Come here.”

He walked round, opening his arms and Morrissey slotted into them, slouching down to tuck his face against Johnny’s neck.

Johnny exhaled and kissed his temple. “Thanks Moz.” he repeated quietly.

“You don’t have to keep saying thank you.” Morrissey whispered. He slid one hand up, caressing Johnny’s short hair gently.

They stood in the kitchen for a long minute in quiet, holding each other tightly.

“What a mess everything is.” Johnny said softly. “I never… imagined it would end up like this. I wish I could just rewind a couple of years to when we were happy.”

Morrissey swallowed and nodded silently.

“As long are you’re ok.” Johnny murmured. “You… are ok?”

Morrissey nodded again. “I suppose so.”

“I mean, in the grand scheme of life, you’re ok?” Johnny pulled back slightly to look at the singer. He reached out, idly brushing his thumb across his cheek.

“I shall survive.” Morrissey replied honestly. “At one point I’m not sure I would. So that is some improvement.”

Johnny swallowed, a pain in his stomach. “Cause of me?”

“Well. It didn’t help. But it was a lot of things.” Morrissey said quietly.

He suddenly looked so delicate and soft in the afternoon light, Johnny thought.

And he’d nearly broken him.

Nearly pushed him too far.

“I don’t expect I will ever be full of the joys of life.” Morrissey continued. He tentatively reached up and stroked Johnny’s hair again, twisting it through his fingers. “But yes. I am ok.”

“M’sorry.” Johnny said. “For every call I ignored. When you needed me and I was off being a selfish wanker.”

Morrissey held his gaze, trying to keep everything inside.

He didn’t want to think back on the nights after Johnny left the band.

Loneliness, despair. Up all night, thinking. Contemplating.

Staring at the pill packet.

Johnny exhaled then and moved his hand, massaging he back of the singers neck gently.

“Oh Moz.” he muttered. “What a fuck up I am. Scares me to think that I…. held the power to make you that upset.”

Morrissey looked at him hesitantly. “You are still not aware of your presence in my life?”

“I…” Johnny swallowed, suddenly overcome by guilt. “I am and I wanna get it right, from now on, ok? I wanna get it absolutely… right.”

He met the singers eyes again. “So no more dancing round the point, yeah? Next time I’m being selfish or anything, I need you to tell me.”

Morrissey nodded silently.

“Maybe s’better if I did get lost and leave you to get on with your life? I don’t know.” Johnny muttered, gripping the other man tighter. “I can SAY the words, Moz, but I don’t think I can go through with it, in reality.”

“I never wanted you to walk away from me, Johnny.” Morrissey whispered. His voice wavered with emotion.

“I know, I know… I know.” Johnny let out a noise of frustration, of exhaustion. He pulled the singer back in and hugged him tightly, kissing him on the temple. “I’m sorry.”

Morrissey swallowed thickly. “As am I. At the end I wasn’t a nice person for you to be around either, I was rude and I pushed back against you constantly.”

“I deserved that.”

“But I cut off your attempts at communication sometimes. That wasn’t fair. I closed myself off.”

“Yeah to protect yourself from hurt.” Johnny said. “You were just trying to survive it all.”

He pulled back again and swallowed. “Please god lets just… make a pact now, ok? To talk anything out, no matter how hard?”

Morrissey nodded. “Yes.”

Johnny smiled and slid a hand through the singers quiff gently.

Morrissey bit his lip then, the overwhelming feeling to be wanted and needed by Johnny clawing up inside him.

He ducked his head slightly, eyes on the guitarist.

“What?” Johnny whispered, sensing the change in mood.

His eyes flickered slowly from the singers eyes to his lips and back again.

“You gotta tell me, Moz.” he said a moment later, voice low. “I really… can’t dive in and fuck us up again.”

Morrissey nodded and tentatively took Johnny’s hand, nuzzling it into his cheek.

“Kiss me?” he whispered.

Johnny held his gaze for a moment, studying him.

“Christ. You’re so beautiful.” he whispered.

Morrissey bit his lip then and shifted infinitely closer.

Johnny leant in then, closing the gap and pressed a soft kiss to the singers lips.

They both relaxed into it, bodies moulding together with no hesitation.

Johnny briefly thought back to the first time this had ever happened, sitting on Morrissey’s bedroom floor one afternoon back in 1982.

He still remember how he’d crawled across to the singer and pressed a nervous kiss to him, still unsure if the attraction he was feeling was one sided.

Time kept on ticking, but the feeling he got from this never seemed to disappear.

One kiss turned into two, then three and Johnny could feel his heart rate rocketing.

He got his hand under Morrissey’s jumper, stroking his hot skin as they kissed.

“Oh baby.” Johnny breathed. “Mozza.”

Morrissey moved his arms up then, sliding them round Johnny’s neck and anchoring himself close.

Johnny pulled him in tight, their kisses deepening.

Morrissey smiled into it as Johnny stroked his cheek with the pad of his thumb.

When they broke apart they both exhaled, foreheads touching.

A long moment passed before Morrissey laughed softly, pressing his lips together.

“You laughing at me?” Johnny grinned, the tension easing. “Fucking charming.”

“No, no. I am just rather surprised.” Morrissey. “Surprised that I’m surprised. This is _us_ , after all.”

“You’re right. Cant leave you alone for five minutes.” Johnny sighed.

He leant up and pressed another kiss to the taller mans lips.

“It did take two days.” Morrissey murmured. He moved his hand back through Johnny’s hair, stroking the soft strands.

“Would’ve kissed you the second you opened the door to me but I thought you might knock me out.” Johnny admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

Morrissey tilted his head. “I am not angry at you, Johnny.”

“I know. I’m angry at myself so I’m… projecting.” Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. You could always psychoanalyse me better, darling.”

Morrissey smiled softly. “You are feeling guilty, but please do not. I am holding no grudges against you.”

Johnny nodded slowly. He caught the singers hand and kissed his knuckles softly. “Thank you.”

He looked at the other man for a moment. “I meant what I said before, Moz. We should talk everything out, if we… can. I wanna try and be absolutely truthful with you about this, _us_.”

“Yes. I am apprehensive, but yes.” Morrissey whispered.

He gripped Johnny tighter then, unconsciously.

“Why apprehensive?”

“Oh I don’t know. It sounded like a pre-cursor for something ending. Something being us.” Morrissey said quietly.

Their eyes met and Johnny frowned.

“No, no. That’s not it at all, I…. I’m incapable of leaving you alone, you haven’t noticed?” he huffed out a laugh. “I can say the words all the time that I’ll leave you to get on with life but obviously in reality.” he gestured vaguely. “Here I am.”

“I don’t wish for you to leave me alone. Why would I?”

“So you can move on in your life? Find someone else.” the words died in Johnny’s throat and he swallowed.

Morrissey furrowed his brows. “Who says that is what I want?”

Johnny frowned then, looking up at the gorgeous man in front of him.

“Can we go sit down and… talk?” he whispered.

Morrissey swallowed and nodded, something crossing his expression.

Self preservation perhaps, Johnny thought.

He seemed to be steeling himself for something.

Probably to be messed around for the millionth time.

“Come on.” Johnny murmured.

He held out his hand and Morrissey managed a small smile, taking it instantly and allowing Johnny to lead him through to the living room.

They sat down on the sofa, still gasping hands.

“Ok.” Johnny exhaled. “Christ. I told myself I would start putting you first now, Moz, ok? No more selfish behaviour like the past six years.”

Morrissey nodded, resting his head against the back of the sofa and looking at Johnny with a mixed expression.

“I just had a realisation earlier.” Johnny said. He mirrored the other mans body language, turning to face him properly. “Whilst I’m still hanging about in your life maybe I’m stopping you moving on or… you know, finding someone else?”

He met the singers blue eyes.

Morrissey didn’t speak but looked slightly confused.

“This is so fucking difficult.” Johnny choked out. “Because I don’t want you to do that. But I don’t want to keep being this wanker who doesn’t deserve you. I’m not fair on you, I’ve never been fair on you, I had a girlfriend who I chose to marry whilst still expecting you to be there for me and be fine about it.”

Morrissey swallowed thickly.

They’d had many conversations like this but this was the first time he’d heard Johnny sound so utterly sincere and upset.

“I was well aware of the situation.” Morrissey said softly. “So I was to blame just as much as you. I knew very well when we first kissed that day that you had a girlfriend.”

“But I let it go on, I… encouraged it?” Johnny said, frowning deeply. “I haven’t been fair to you, Moz. But on the flip side of that, having to give you up? I… couldn’t, I tried, fucking hell.”

He gripped the singers hand tighter then, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I tried backing off, putting distance between us. All I did was hurt us both.”

“I simply thought you had lost any type of feelings for me.” Morrissey whispered then, voice wavering.

He didn’t want to go back in his mind to that awful time, but it was difficult.

“I know.” Johnny said, jaw clenched. “I projected myself as this idiot with no emotions, I was too intent on snorting anything I could up my nose to try and forget that my life was awful without you in it.”

He took Morrissey’s hand in both of his own, exhaling. “What I’m trying to say is, if you truly think it’d be better for you, I can… go and not contact you.”

The words stuck in his throat, he could hardly form them.

Morrissey regarded him for a long moment.

“I have never done well being apart from you, John.” he said quietly.

“I know. Nor have I. But thats just codependency. We’ll… eventually grow out of it.” Johnny said, a lump in his throat.

“Do you want to leave me?” Morrissey choked out. “Is this your way of ending this once and for all? A get out of jail free card?”

“No!” Johnny shifted closer to the singer. “No. I don’t _want_ to but I will if you want me to. If it helps you or you think thats best for you then I can do it.”

Morrissey reached up with his free hand and roughly wiped his eyes.

“There is no lifetime in which I wish you would walk away from me.” he said softly.

Johnny nodded, some of the blinding panic leaving him. “Ok.” he whispered.

“I cant keep you here forever, Johnny, I know that. I can hold on but it’s never enough.” Morrissey said thickly. “I am well aware of the situation. But I still do not want to give up… this, us.”

“I’m not fair on you.” Johnny said again. “I know that. Tell me if there’s something I can do or say to help?”

He pulled on the singers hand as he spoke. “Come here.”

Morrissey did so without question, crawling into the guitarists arms.

Johnny took his weight, pulling him onto his lap and they embraced tightly.

“Oh Moz.” Johnny exhaled. “I want you to be happy, ok? With the situation. If it means you find someone else, then thats how that is.”

“Have I mentioned anyone else?” Morrissey sighed. “I don’t know why you are parroting this same line all of a sudden.”

“I’m amazed you haven’t already.” Johnny muttered. He pressed his face against the singers hair to avoid eye contact. “You’re gorgeous, funny, talented, unbelievably beautiful. They should be all lining up at the door.”

“The door is closed. I have no interest.” Morrissey whispered, clutching at him. He wriggled closer but Johnny pulled back to look at him.

“I just want you to know that this… us, it’s a completely open line of communication, ok?” he said quietly. “And if your wants or feelings change then I’ll be happy if you’re happy.”

“Truly?” Morrissey said softly. “I know you, Johnny. I cannot imagine a scenario where I announce to you I’ve met someone and you are thrilled to pieces.”

Johnny swallowed, jaw clenched again. “No but… its not my place to kick off, is it? I cant. S’gonna hurt like fuck, yeah, but thats what I’ve asked of you for all this time.”

He turned and kissed the singer gently on the temple.

Morrissey sighed then, deeply.

“When I fucked off from the gig the other day I was in a blind mess.” Johnny said then, voice low. “I suddenly wanted to just stop being Johnny Marr and go back to being John Maher from Wythenshawe. I just stormed off and… cried, Moz. Honest to god, I was a wreck. All I could think was that I wanted to see you. Maybe thats what love is, needing just that one person at your lowest moment. I dunno.”

He chanced a look at the singer.

Morrissey nodded slowly, looking pensive.

Their eyes met then and they looked at each other for a long moment.

“If my feelings towards you or this situation changes, I shall tell you.” Morrissey affirmed softly. “But they have not. As for meeting someone else… that is a hellacious idea to me, Johnny. The very idea of doing _this_ with someone else seems so wrong.”

Johnny nodded mutely.

Morrissey thought for a long moment. “I had dinner with someone, perhaps it was… intended to be a romantic setting. And I absolutely detested it. You are the only person I am able to be myself with, to relax with and I know it does not matter if we do not talk for every second of the day. We can just _be_. Exist next to each other in comfort.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Johnny nodded. “M’sorry I was an idiot about your dinner as well. Who was he?”

Morrissey pressed his lips together for a moment.

“You truly want to know?”

“No, actually.” Johnny muttered. “Don’t answer that.”

“Nothing happened.” Morrissey huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair. “Heaven knows he _wanted_ something to happen, but it did not.”

“He didn’t… did he put the moves on you?” Johnny frowned, anger flashing across his expression.

“I’m a big boy now, I can look after myself.” Morrissey said softly.

He shifted slightly and rested his head against the guitarist, pulling Johnny’s arm round him.

“I know that, Moz. Just protective.” Johnny muttered.He wrapped both arms round the singer and kissed his temple. “Have we made any headway on this?”

“I believe so. And yes, I shall tell you if my feelings change.” Morrissey said. “But they have not.”

“Mine haven’t either, darling.” Johnny sighed. “I’ll shut up now, been maudlin enough this past week to carry me through til I’m fucking sixty years old.”

“You shall be bald by then.” Morrissey quipped.

“You cheeky bastard.” Johnny laughed. “Come here and gimme a kiss _now_.”

Morrissey grinned, leaning in and obeying the request, sighing as Johnny held him close.

“Will you still fancy me even if I’m bald then?” Johnny smiled, holding the singers head in his hands.

“Oh yes. I cant imagine that will ever change.” Morrissey murmured. “What about when I am old and decaying? No longer beautiful and lithe?”

“You’ll always be fucking gorgeous, I guarantee it.” Johnny said.

He coaxed the singer back in and they kissed slowly, smiling against each others lips.

“My Moz.” Johnny mumbled. “Come on. Me, you, bed, cuddle. Sound good?”

Morrissey nodded, smiling shyly as he pulled back. “Yes. I am inclined to agree.”

They stood up, both stretching slightly.

Johnny slipped his arm round the singers waist and they headed for the stairs.

His mind had settled slightly, some of the fear and angst tampered down.

He knew in his heart their bond was unbreakable, unshakable.

But Johnny felt as though he had done at least one thing right by offering the singer the option… the choice to move on.

It would be like a kick in the teeth, but that was his own doing.

Every jealous, resentful emotion he felt had already been felt by Morrissey, amplified a hundred times. Yet he still looked at Johnny with such obvious adoration.

The guitarist felt both on top of the world and incredibly guilty.

He knew it wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was all a bit of a mess.

But it wasn’t something Johnny was willing to give up.

He’d fight to the bitter end for Morrissey, if he had to.

Not even the gods above could separate them, he was sure of it.

Pushing aside all thoughts of anyone else he lead the singer off to bed, slightly thrown off by the depth of his feeling for him.

It was as though everything was hitting him all over again, like it was 1982 and they were falling in love for the first time in a haze of summer days and long nights.

And later when Morrissey was on the brink of sleep, Johnny kissed him once more.

“I love you.” he murmured. “I’m still so idiotically in love with you.”

And Morrissey smiled sleepily, eyes fluttering.

“Nothing will ever change.” he affirmed.  
  
This was them, come hell or high water.

  
*

**Author's Note:**

> Your eyes do not deceive, I have finally managed to produce something other than a one shot! Hope it's ok. Happy New Year to you all wherever you are in the world and once again thanks to the people who kudos and comment, y'all are the real MVPs.


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